Defenders of Order
by Azrael Heavenblade
Summary: Every three centuries, the Fallen appear, and even the gods are emperiled by their arrival. Yet every three centuries, there will be a Champion to fight them. This time, that man is Azrael Heavenblade.
1. Default Chapter

Defenders of Order - The Saga of the Champions  
  
Chapter One - Treesong  
  
The Surefall Glade seems to many like a place of tranquility, peace, and harmony with nature. But there has also always been an undertone of tension, either from poachers attempting to hunt the bears in the caves, or the Bloodsabers from Qeynos infiltrating the sacred boundaries of the Glade. But, starting two years ago, a different kind of tension has been troubling Te'Anara. In addition to protecting the Glade, the druids and rangers residing within this valley were also in charge of hiding and protecting the Jaggedpine Forest. For many years, they had been successful in this task, and the haven of nature and wild beasts had remained pristine. However, two years before this day, something had changed. Now, she was seeking aid from someone who could aid the Jaggedpine Treefolk against a danger it had never before faced. Someone skilled, someone brave, but who?  
  
She stepped out into the cool morning air from inside the hollow of the great tree and took a few deep breaths of air to clear her head. The few she had sent to investigate the problem earlier had to be drug back to the village within the forest, and the mystery remained unresolved. Clearly, she would have to find either a group of adventurers, or a person who had reached their sixtieth season, for anyone less experienced seemed unable to accomplish the task. But few people ever came to the Surefall Glade, and then, most had a very specific thing they wanted from the vendors, and did not stay. She was hoping that the newer druid teleportation spell to the Glade would attract more visitors, but she had not seen many come via that route either. She turned to head back in when the crackle of a teleport gate became audible in the silence.  
  
As if summoned by her thoughts, two figures became visible in a flash, as the portal completed itself. One was a younger half-elven druid, sadly no more than in his thirty-third season. The other though . . . He was a tall human man wearing light blue and gold armor, with a long heavy fur cape, as if he had come from someplace very cold. He had long brown hair, and a somewhat scraggly beard covered his face. But it was his eyes that drew her attention as she walked closer. Though mostly green, there was a slim ring of brown around his pupils. She had never seen eyes like these, eyes that showed experience, yet also a great weariness, and a heavy sadness. In his hand, he held a flaming sword, yet unlike most Fiery Defenders she had seen, this one glowed blue. This . . . this was the kind of man she had been seeking, a careful consideration proved that he was as experienced as she, if not more. A paladin, who surely would not refuse a noble quest . . . or so she hoped.  
  
The paladin opened his coin pouch and took out a handful of platinum coins and handed them to the druid, muttering a word of thanks. In contrast to his hushed manner, the druid grinned and replied, "It was no problem at all my lord, I really wanted to try out this spell after all. You didn't need to pay me, but thanks just the same! I hope you find that place you're looking for, call me if you ever need to get somewhere again!" With that, he cast a gate spell, and faded away shortly after. Now, only the paladin was left. Te'Anara began to raise her hand in a greeting, but he didn't see her, moving to stand outside, looking around with the same tired gaze he gave everything. She stepped softly closer to hear him mutter, "Where now do I go? Where can I find peace? The moon?"  
  
"Excuse me, my lord knight?" the druidess asked, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. He finally seemed to notice her, and his head swiveled around slowly to regard her straight in the eyes. As she studied his face, she realized that he was still a young man, though the fatigue in his eyes and on his face belied his youth. Clearing her throat, she began, "I am in need of your services. You see, we have a problem that only an experienced warrior like yourself can help us solve." The man's eyes narrowed, and he responded gruffly, "That's nice," and attempted to move his shoulder away. Te'Anara was taken aback, but swiftly changed her strategy. "A young elven maiden, a ranger, had attempted to aid us before, but she has not returned, and every adventurer we sent to try and complete her task has been found dead," she explained further, knowing that in the past, virtually every paladin she had talked to would acquiesce almost immediately upon the mention of a maiden in trouble.  
  
But this one was having none of it. "That's a nice story, but I'm not here to listen to fairy tales. In fact, I don't plan on staying here long at all. Good day, madam," he told her, and wrenched his pauldron free of her hand and began stalking off. "She disappeared two years ago, and that's when the singing started!" she called after him desperately, wringing her hands. The paladin stopped short, and stood silently for a few moments, then asked without turning around, "Two years ago? And what's this about singing?"  
  
Sighing with relief, the human woman ran her hands through her long brown hair and told him, "It all started when the animals in the Jaggedpine Forest began acting strangely when they came close to this specific tree near the river. No man could get close, and while women were allowed nearer, most fled, claiming they felt a strange aura when they got close to the tree. A few weeks after this started, a young wood elf came into the glade to purchase some spells, but agreed to help us after listening to our troubles. We allowed her into the forbidden forest and wished her luck. She never came back. Then things got worse. Only a few short hours after she departed, a strange singing could be heard through most of the forest. The animals which had been acting strangely before suddenly became vicious, and continue to attack anyone who gets close to the source of the singing, which we believe to be that same tree. We have sent warriors, wizards, and priests, yet few return unharmed. But none of them were on the same level as you are. Please, I am begging you, what if the animals decide to attack our village instead of being content to guard the tree? I know it is asking much of you, but perhaps if you could ask your guild to come and assist . . . "  
  
No sooner had she mentioned the word 'guild' than the man's eyes changed, going from tired to angry and pained, and his hand tightened on his sword. She stepped back in alarm, fearing he would attack her, but he just stood there, running his fingers along the grip of his sword, almost reverently, before calming down, but his eyes still burned. Quietly, he replied, "I have no guild, but perhaps I will look into this matter." Her heart pounding, Te'Anara almost forgot to speak, but nodded her thanks. "This way," she beckoned, and motioned for him to follow her. She led him towards the falls, and leapt inside the caves behind the rushing water. He made the jump easily, which surprised her, as she didn't expect him to have that kind of agility in his heavy armor. They encountered a few bear cubs as they weaved their way into the back of the cavern, who yelped their distress at the paladin's approach, but were soothed by the druid as she worked her way past them. Finally, they came to a cave where a thin walkway, big enough for only one person led to the other side where a pedestal bearing a glowing maroon stone stood.  
  
In the reddish light, the man stepped forwards and asked, "Has that always been here?" Te'Anara shook her head no, and explained, "It has been erected only recently, almost no one knows of its existence outside of the Glade. It will take you to the Jaggedpine Forest. I will inform the druids there of your coming. I cannot thank you enough. But . . . may I ask your name?" The paladin's mouth tightened, and he responded, "It's not important. I shall find this tree of yours." Before she could protest, he placed his hand upon the stone and was surrounded by light as the pedestal released its magic, sending him to its twin. Te'Anara frowned as the sparkles from the magic faded, but it was replaced by a faint smile. Though his identity was still fairly unknown to her, she felt she could trust this man.  
  
With a dull boom, the paladin reappeared inside a vast forest of tall pines, and the calls of wild beasts could be heard from all directions. The human man scanned the area with interest, for if Te'Anara was right, he was one of a few outsiders ever let into this wood, the Jaggedpine Forest. Off to his right, a few stone buildings stood, where he could see people moving around inside. The doorways had no doors, and the windows were open to the air, with only crosses of stone filling the space. Off behind one of the buildings, he could see a tent, and a man standing near it, but not what was inside of it. As he turned around slowly, taking in the rolling hills and the prevalent mist through all the forest, a sour-faced middle-aged man emerged from the closest building and walked over to the paladin. "You are . . . the man Te'Anara has sent to help us?" he inquired in a nasal voice, almost obviously a banker or clerk by his demeanor. The paladin turned his intense gaze upon the man and nodded.  
  
Shocked by the paladin's expression, the clerk shuddered briefly, and decided it would be wise not to delay him further than necessary. Extending his arm, the clerk pointed out into the forest, and told the younger man, "You shall find the tree in that direction, near the river. I do warn you, if you are not diligent, you shall be set upon by any bear, wolf, griffon, or treant to come across you, especially once you start hearing the song." Amazingly, the paladin's grim mouth turned in a small smirk, and he muttered, "We shall see . . . " and strode off into the forest. Harrumphing indignantly, the clerk returned to his desk inside the building, glad to be rid of the man. "Honestly," he grumbled aloud, as he sat back down in his creaky chair, "What is Te'Anara doing, trusting our affairs to outsiders like this? Much less those who are as full of themselves as this one?"  
  
But, free of having to deal with any more people, the paladin's face had softened considerably as he walked out into the misty forest. The scent of pine was omnipresent, and coupled with the slight dampness of the morning, cast a fragrant smell, which appeared to soothe the man's mood. He walked silently, taking care not to let his flaming sword catch alight any of the trees or brush as he moved along. There were indeed many beasts, as he caught sight of several wolves and bears moving along through the trees, including a few panthers. They paid him little mind as he moved past him, though he had to step out of the flight path of a griffon as it flew past, glaring at the intruder. As he moved deeper into the wood, he spotted what appeared to be glowing balls of flame and light on the ground. Moving closer to one, as he stepped within a few feet, the ball of flame disappeared in a puff of smoke, and in its place stood a white haired woman clad in a gauzy open robe and a clinging purple leotard.  
  
Surprised, the paladin's eyes widened, but quickly realized what this woman was. "A dryad . . . So this is where they live," he said to himself, examining the rare creature. But she paid him little mind, just her eyes following him as he moved. After a while his interest faded, and he continued on. More and more dryads appeared as he walked along, all watching him silently. This audience unnerved him, but he had yet to encounter any trouble. As he was raising his leg to step over a fallen log, he began to catch the first few notes of a song. Clearing the log, he stood still, trying to ascertain where the singing was coming from. Though still soft, the music was carrying clearly from off in the distance. Changing his direction, he moved cautiously towards the noise.  
  
As the song grew in strength, he realized that it was a woman singing. Either she had a very strong voice, or somehow it was carrying well through the woods. As he cleared a hill, he saw a dark object lying on the ground. Tightening his grip on his sword, he moved towards it, only to discover it was a corpse. It had at one point been a half-elven man, but there were many bite and claw marks on the body, and the right arm had been horribly mangled. Checking the wounds, the paladin found that this body had not been lying here more than a day . . . As he stood up, he heard the crack of a branch behind him and to his right.  
  
It was only his speed that saved him as the panther leapt from off the rock towards him. The paladin met the animal in mid-air with a swing from his Fiery Defender, and the animal howled as its flesh and fur seared from the long cut. Leaping off to the side, the cat began circling the man. Following its movement, the human noticed that the cat's eyes looked strange, filmed over, and somehow . . . frightened, as if it was deathly afraid of him, but was being forced to fight. With another yowl, the cat made its second pounce. With a mighty yaulp, the man blocked its claws and began hurriedly casting another spell. His hand glowed red, and a blast of force stunned the panther, rocking it back. Dashing in, the paladin slashed, parried, and riposted expertly. The cat managed to get in a few gashes, but was hopelessly outmatched, and went down with one final snarl. Perturbed by how the cat did not retreat, the paladin began to realize that there might very well be something seriously wrong in these woods. Casting a light healing spell, he moved on.  
  
It was not long before a bear tackled him from behind. Before it could bite his neck and attempt to worry him to death, he threw the heavy ursine off and stunned it before moving in to attack. While parrying the bear's heavy attempts to maul him, the paladin noticed that the bear's eyes had the exact same look as the panther. These beasts would be incredibly dangerous to someone twenty seasons or more below him, but he was able to defeat them with ease. Still, as the bear collapsed to the ground, he realized that he'd never get close to this tree if the attacks continued.  
  
After healing his wounds, his hand traveled to a clasp hidden on the front of his breastplate's abdomen. Unlocking it, he removed the plate that it held on, revealing a strange amulet hanging down inside the shallow cavity. Resting within the armored relief, the talisman was the size of a grown man's palm, the metal silvered and highly reflective. Inside the metal frame, a sigil rested in the midst of green crystal, a triangle made of seven smaller triangles, the outermost three silver, the middle three gold, and the innermost triangle made of pearly crystal that seemed to flicker with inner light.  
  
As he resumed his walking, he realized that his sense of eeriness was not just superstition; it was in the very air, a strange miasma of fear and discomfort. The amulet against his diaphragm kept the odd influence from affecting him further, but even so, he could feel it despite its protection. The singing was still growing louder, but more slowly, as if it were a woman singing at a normal voice, rather than at the top of her ability. Over the sound of the singing, which was in a language he could not recognize, he began to hear the rush of the river somewhere off ahead. Moving down over the next hill, he tensed as he saw a wolf staring at him. But unlike the others, the canine slunk back at his approach, and trotted off warily. He surmised that the protection the amulet was giving him against the paranormal influence also negated the aggression of the animals around him, restoring them to a semblance of normal behavior . . . towards him at least.  
  
Ahead, he saw the trees clearing, and quickened his pace. He emerged next to the river, and the mid-day sun. He hadn't realized it, but his journey had taken longer than he had expected. Looking towards the river, he found it eerily empty...where were the water sprites and turtles he had read about? The singing continued off to his left, so he turned, and was astonished at what he saw. On the far left, there stood a large tree surrounded by mushrooms, and scattered between the mushrooms were several of the same animals he had encountered through the forest. But it was not their presence that perturbed him. For halfway up the trunk of the tree was the figure of a woman seemingly carved from the wood. Her 'hair' seemed made of roots embedded into the bark, and her fingers and toes branched off into more roots reaching back into the tree as well.  
  
He approached warily, and while the animals glared and growled at his approach, none did anything to stop him from stepping right up to the tree, though he narrowly avoided stepping on a large snake curled up at its base. Stepping carefully on the protruding roots, he moved closer to the statue of the woman. As he got close to her, his feet stepped on something that gave a soft clinking sound. Looking down, he saw an abandoned suit of chainmail, a jagged edged sword, a bow, and a quiver still half full of arrows lying on the ground. The metal was rusted, and moss was growing on the arrows, but this was not an ancient relic . . . this had been left here not a decade ago. Looking back to the woman, he noticed that she had long pointed ears. A thought began to grow in his mind . . . What if this was the elf maiden that had disappeared? No woman at least in his memory would leave their clothes lying on the ground and move off never to return.  
  
The singing seemed to emanate from a gap between her lips, which moved with the words, yet she never seemed to need to take breath. He began to doubt again whether or not this . . . thing was alive, but then he saw something curious, there were additional roots attached to her back and limbs by suction cup like mossy pads. The roots seemed to be . . . sucking something out of her, taking slow gulps of whatever it was they were being nourished by. If it were blood, if this was indeed the elf, she'd have been dead ages ago. No, they were feeding on something else. Making up his mind, he snatched at the tendrils and began pulling them loose. They began to fall free and droop against the trunk. There were no wounds that were readily apparent against the smooth wood of the woman's back, but he was sure that they had been draining something valuable from her. As he began to have over two thirds free, suddenly, the ones he had pulled off first lifted up and re-attached themselves.  
  
Frowning, he yanked them off again, and resumed on the others. Yet as he pulled and pulled, they began to attach faster and harder, becoming more difficult to pull loose, almost as if someone was controlling them. Whatever force was behind this, it obviously didn't want to let the woman go. Grimacing, he left the tendrils alone, and tried pulling on the woman's hands. They came free easily enough, the same with her feet, yet she was still being held fast to the tree by the roots making up her long hair. An experimental tug revealed they were held fast. Taking his sword in hand, he whispered softly, "Sorry lady, but I'm going to have to give you a haircut." As he raised the sword to slash at the roots, the tree shuddered and a groaning noise seemed to emanate from the base of the tree.  
  
Without warning, several roots sprouted from the bark and wrapped around his arm, pulling it to the trunk. Gasping in surprise, the paladin was yanked roughly against the tree, but quickly recovered, and wrenched at his arm, but the roots were held fast. In fact, more sprouted and ensnared his legs, and more reached for his other arm. Growling, he muttered a spell, and attempted to stun the tree, but it had no effect. As the roots began to wrap around his left arm, he realized he had no choice left. The white stone at the center of his amulet began to glow faintly, and electricity crackled from the metal. With a boom of thunder, green lightning flashed forth from the man's entire body and incinerated the roots. Dropping free to the ground, panting for breath, the paladin readied his sword. Sure enough, more roots lashed out at him, but he cut through them as they rushed at him.  
  
Still, more and more emerged by the second, and he realized that they weren't trying to kill him, but rather to protect their prize, and maybe capture him in the process. Fighting closer to the spot where he could look up at the woman, he cleared a path with his sword and leapt up to strike at the hair/roots. Shockingly, all he managed to do with the full force of his stroke was to carve a shallow furrow in the roots. As he landed and began to fight off the roots again, he heard a hollow, creaky voice like that of an old man telling him to go away. "Flee this forest, young human. This Feir'Dal is mine . . . There is power within her...Power like, and not like that in you . . . But you are too willful to become part of me, so if you do not go, I will kill you . . . Or pull you right up alongside her!" the voice called.  
  
"I don't think so . . . " the paladin responded. Whatever the power it was referring to, it couldn't seem to handle the special power he had used to free himself, so he gathered up another strike in the palm of his hand. The roots writhed and flew into a flurry, attempting to attack him while defending the tree. The best the paladin could do was to clear a hole that revealed the woman's head and hair. He would have one shot . . . Concentrating, he released the bolt of emerald lightning from his fist, and it cleaved the roots of the woman's hair from the tree at its midsection. With nothing to hold her on anymore, the woman fell free to the ground. The tree shrieked, and the roots abruptly whipped back to the trunk. The man rushed forwards and pulled the stiff woman away to a safe distance as the roots writhed around the tree.  
  
He returned to the tree to finish it off, but something was happening . . . As he got within range, rather than attacking him, the roots withdrew within the trunk and disappeared. A few seconds later, a man's figure emerged from within the tree and fell to the ground. Wondering if it was another victim of the tree, the paladin stepped closer, but soon realized that the man was neither human nor elf. The wood that he was made of had moss and leaves forming a semblance of clothing, and his 'hair' was made up of moss and grass. The man's face was withered and gnarled, looking indeed like an old man. Standing up, the paladin spoke aloud what he discovered this thing was, "A male dryad . . . " Male dryads had not been seen in centuries. When they had been prevalent, they stayed with their trees, while the mobile but mute females wandered through the forest. The males could talk, and were intelligent, but were far from aggressive unless their trees were threatened. But they had all died off, or so it was thought.  
  
Clearly dead, the paladin rifled through the corpse, looking for some sign of what had allowed this dryad to live so long, or what had driven it mad. As he ran his gauntleted hands through the leafy cover on the dryad's torso, he found something hard and resilient. Pulling it free, he examined what he had found. It was a scale of some sort, from an unknown reptile. It didn't look like a snake scale, or that of a lizardman or gator. It was too large to fit any of those creatures, yet was too small to be a dragons' scale. It glittered dully in the light, yet nothing seemed too remarkable about it. Nevertheless, he stuffed it into one of his packs, and returned to the woman's 'statue'. To his surprise, the wood was flaking and peeling off, revealing skin underneath. She was also clearly breathing, her chest rising and falling. Removing his cape, the paladin wrapped her in it and started carrying her back towards where he had come.  
  
As he walked with her through the forest, a noticeable change had been brought about. The air seemed far clearer, almost cheery. The animals seemed back to normal, and went about their daily business. As he journeyed on, the wooden covering that had encased the woman continued to fall off, hair replacing the roots, her joints loosening, teeth revealed as her mouth was able to open further. He realized that she was more of a girl than woman, appearing to be a young adult, perhaps just out of adolescence. The thing that disturbed him was that she had not shown any sign of awareness as they had traveled back to the village. What if she was in a coma, or her mind was gone, having been leeched by the dryad? Putting his concerns out of his mind and a suitable scowl upon his face, they neared the village.  
  
Several Jaggedpine Treefolk had noticed his approach, and were standing outside. Seeing the young woman in his arms, over half of them began to cheer, and the rest smiled and clapped. The bank clerk stood behind them, the corners of his mouth turned down at the paladin's return. Silently, he beckoned for him to carry her to the pedestal. Nodding, the paladin stepped to the magic stone and once more placed his hand on the garnet-like orb. Both he and the elven woman were carried back to the cave in the Glade. Readjusting his grip, the human man realized that Te'Anara was nowhere to be found. She had likely returned to her guildhouse to wait. Carefully walking across the bridge, he strode swiftly through the caves, ignoring the trilling and bawling of the bears he went past.  
  
As he reached the pond, he realized he had a problem. He couldn't leap back across the gap with the elf in his arms, so he'd have to swim and hold her head above the water. Carefully setting her down, he slid into the water, and pulled her feet-first in after him. Holding her about the torso, he paddled over to the shore a few feet away, though he nearly sank with their combined weight. Taking hold of the bank, he braced himself and slung her up onto the ground. This effort caused the cloak to fall open, and he averted his eyes in slight embarrassment as he realized that the wooden shell was almost entirely gone, and he had foolishly left her equipment lying by the tree. Cursing his absentmindedness, he hurriedly pulled himself onto solid ground and wrapped her back up again. Lifting her back up to his chest, he walked back in the direction of the druid guild's tree.  
  
Te'Anara had just handed a guild tunic to a young novice when she saw the paladin's shadow step within the door. Keeping her eyes on the novice, she remarked distantly, "I don't suppose you found something?" The paladin's brusque facade shifted as he smirked briefly but the smile faded swiftly, and he replied, "You might say that . . . Is this the girl?" Te'Anara's head shot up and saw the elf cradled in his arms, along with the crowd gathering behind the man. "You found her?" she exclaimed, rushing over. " . . . Yeah, long story," the paladin quipped as the druid examined the elf's face. Tugging on his arm, she pulled him over to the inn not far away, where he laid her down upon one of the beds. The druid carefully checked the ranger's face and body, noticing the remnants of the dryad's affliction. Still, she seemed much relieved that the young woman appeared to be all right. "Yes," she said finally, "This is Lsanna. The young ranger we sent those two years ago. She's alive."  
  
Much later . . .  
  
"I see," Te'Anara murmured as the paladin finished his story. She turned the odd scale over and over in her hands, yet even she could not identify it. Handing it back to the paladin, she told him, "We cannot thank you enough. The forest is safe again, and we might even be able to open it for other outsiders to explore. The presence of the dryad is a mystery, but perhaps a mystery for another time. If there's anything you require . . . " But the paladin merely waved his hand, and got up from the tree stump where the two had been sitting in the druid's tree. "I was glad to help, but this has delayed me from my original plan, so if you'll excuse me . . . " he said as he began to leave, but Te'Anara leapt to her feet and exclaimed in shock, "You're leaving already? How can you? Can't you at least stay to see if Lsanna wakes up? How callous can you be? At least tell me your name!"  
  
Then, an erudite from the back exclaimed in an excited voice, "Wait, I recognize him! He's the famous dragon-slayer in Velious, Azrael the Three- Lives!" Azrael halted in mid-stride, and his face contorted into a snarl. Marching right up to the erudite, he seized a fistful of the mage's robes and said in a low, dangerous voice, "Never . . . ever . . . say that name again. I am the Three-Lives no longer." Letting him down, he stormed off, ignoring the shouts directed towards him and the cries to stop. As he neared the tunnel leading out of the Glade, he heard cries of, "She's awake! Everyone come quickly!" Azrael stopped, and looked back towards the inn, where people were crowding in. Torn, he gazed back towards the tunnel, but with a growl, he muttered, "Damn it all to hell . . . " and walked back to the inn.  
  
Inside, Lsanna blinked her large green eyes as she stared up at the jubilant faces beaming down at her. She coughed and tried to speak, but her throat was dry and her tongue more so. Te'Anara forced her way to the front and handed her a wooden glass full of water. Taking it, the ranger gulped it all down, gasping at the coldness of the liquid. "Are you all right, Lsanna?" Te'Anara asked worriedly, motioning for the people to move back and give her room. The wood elf pulled the covers up over her bare chest and scanned the room with a confused look on her face. "Where . . . am I?" she asked. "You're back at the inn, I'm afraid you ran into a bit of trouble when we sent you out into the forest," Te'Anara replied gently, with a smile at the understatement of what she had said. Looking around again, the ranger recognized where she was, and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear her head. "I . . . The last thing I remember, I was walking up to a tree . . . I heard an old man singing a song . . . Then nothing," she told the human woman.  
  
Realizing the sensitivity of what she would have to tell the young ranger, Te'Anara waved for the crowd to leave. As they filed out the door, she noticed with surprise that Azrael had taken up a place against the wall, now fully dry once again, his cloak held loosely in his hands, still damp apparently. He waved distantly, trying not to look interested, yet she could tell he was concerned. She was beginning to figure him out . . . she suspected his coldness was an act, but she couldn't figure out why he was this way. Judging from his reactions to questions about his past, she figured he had some incident he wanted to move past, but she wasn't about to pressure him. Turning back to Lsanna, she noticed that the Feir'Dal was staring at the paladin with a rapt gaze. She studied him in amazement, taking in his armor, his cloak, traveling up to his bearded face, then finally to his eyes. She too, was taken with their odd appearance, and she found she could not look away. "Who . . . ?" she managed to say after a while.  
  
Tapping her lightly on the shoulder to bring her attention back, Te'Anara explained in the best way she could, "Lsanna, you owe this man your life. You've been held under the power of a maddened creature for two years. Over a dozen people risked their lives to try and save you, but none came close, none but him. This is . . . Azrael." She deliberately left off the second part of the name the mage had given him, which she noticed he appeared relieved at, but he appeared slightly . . . annoyed, as if somehow she had burdened him with something. Lsanna gaped incredulously at that statement, and exclaimed, "Two years?!" Te'Anara smiled sadly, and replied, "Yes, dear. You've got a lot of catching up to do."  
  
To be continued... 


	2. Chapter 1 part B

"I . . . see," was all Lsanna could say after Te'Anara finished repeating Azrael's story. One warrior who belonged to the few people still lingering outside the inn had managed to forge a new set of banded mail for the ranger to wear, for after Azrael had returned with her former equipment, the armor proved too rusted to be worn. The Trueshot Bow was still in excellent condition, despite having to have its bowstring replaced. And the enchantment that had imbued her weapon with the ability to damage magical creatures apparently also warded off rust.  
  
Lsanna's eyes dropped to her lap as she mulled over what she had been told. As she thought, something came to her. "Do you know where my sister is? Has anyone been here asking for me?" she asked hurriedly, a distraught look on her face. Te'Anara smiled sadly, and replied, "Your . . . friends came looking for you not long after you disappeared, but . . . I have not seen any of them since they stopped coming a few weeks after you had not returned. I have no idea where they may be." Lsanna stared at her, unable to accept what she was hearing. "No . . . idea?" she choked, "I'm all alone? Where am I supposed to go after this? I can't search the whole planet by myself . . . " An idea came into Te'Anara's mind as she caught sight of Azrael edging towards the door. If she couldn't hold the man here by herself, she could make sure he stuck with the elf by sending her after him. She smiled and closed her eyes, telling the ranger, "You won't have to, for Azrael is going with you . . . Aren't you, paladin?"  
  
Taken aback, Azrael stumbled over a chair and nearly fell. "What?" he demanded, irritated, but thankfully, apparently not angry, "I told you I was finished here! How much longer must I remain to do your errands?" Smirking at him, the druid narrowed her eyes and responded, "Oh, you won't be doing my errands anymore, you can wash your hands of me for all I care. But you owe something to the young woman whose life you saved. At the very least, get her started on places to look. Go to Qeynos, for starters. Despite the availability of teleportation now, people still come through the city, and the townsfolk there may still remember where her companions were headed. Two years wasn't that long ago." Lsanna's eyes lit up with hope, and she asked, as her eyes began to tear up, "Do you really think so?" The druidess nodded, but added, "But I think you ought to get dressed before heading out, don't you agree?" The ranger nodded, and wiped her eyes clean. She began to reach out for the banded armor lying on a stool near the bed when her hand stopped, and she turned her eyes to Azrael, who was still standing close by, glaring at the guild master. She coughed discreetly, drawing both his eyes towards her, and the druid to realize what she was after. "What?" he muttered, obviously not happy with how things were proceeding. "Some privacy is needed, I think, young man, march!" Te'Anara remarked, rolling her eyes, as she pushed him out the door so Lsanna could get dressed.  
  
Grumbling, Azrael stood outside in the Qeynos hills, watching dark clouds roll in. Things had been going downhill ever since he had come back, and now, rather than being left alone, he had been tied to this woman, no, girl he had saved. He hadn't wanted to take on the druid's request from the start, yet something had compelled him to do so, and continued to keep him from leaving. Plus, he remembered with a grimace, he couldn't exactly run from a ranger, who could track him anywhere he went. Absently, his left hand traced random patterns over the hatch on his breastplate that hid the Amulet. This . . . power the dryad spoke of...what was he referring to? Could it be . . . No? Well . . . Maybe. I still haven't seen her fight yet, or really do anything either than sit up or talk. She might still be . . . he thought to himself, reflecting back to the odd statements the dryad had made. "Well? I'm ready," he heard someone say from behind, interrupting his train of thought.  
  
Turning, he was amazed by the change in Lsanna's appearance. Her new armor gleamed in the remaining light not hidden by the clouds, and with her hair straightened, and her armor in her hands, she actually appeared back to her normal self as an adventurer. However, he noticed she didn't carry her swords upright, and as she moved to stand beside him, she still walked unsteadily. But her face was confident, and her eyes filled with hope and life. He smiled faintly at her earlier statement, and thought silently, Unable to search the world? I think she underestimated herself. Catching the smile on his lips, she gave him a smile of her own. His smile turned embarrassed, and he shook his head as he attempted to make his face serious again. "Up for a run to the city?" he asked, glancing towards what appeared to be rain approaching. "I'd rather walk," Lsanna replied, placing a hand on his elbow. As they walked down the rocky path towards the city, the sun gave a final burst of light before the clouds covered the sky, as if wishing them on their way.  
  
"Lady, I don't recall ever seeing anyone like the people you described. I can't even remember what I had for dinner a week ago, and you expect me to remember some travelers who bought stuff from me two years ago, then left? Quit bothering me, I've got people here who actually want to buy some baked goods, if you don't mind," the baker complained as Lsanna sighed and stood back up straight from where she had been leaning on his counter. She allowed the queue that had been grumbling behind her to move in to buy items for their own dinners. She had been searching for three hours straight, and the afternoon had passed slowly away. It had been raining since almost before she and the paladin she knew only as Azrael had stepped within the Qeynos city limits, and they were both thoroughly drenched.  
  
She raised the cloak Azrael gave her over her head as she stepped outside, but the time she had spent questioning the baking merchant hadn't given it much time to dry out, and it began to soak through again almost immediately, drops falling into her tangled hair. She found Azrael standing outside, leaning against the wall, and looking up into the darkening sky. He had given her his cloak, yet he had made no effort to find some other kind of cover for himself, as if he didn't even care that he was getting wet. When she had tried to ask him why he didn't purchase an oilskin from a tanner, he just muttered something about living in an area where it rained all the time for several years, and he was used to it. He greatly confused her at times, and yet she was slowly beginning to understand him.  
  
She had met many people during what adventures she had before being ensnared into the dryad's clutches, including many human men. Yet she was traveling with a man she found unique out of any who she had previously met. He showed an education atypical of a warrior, and few priests that knowledgeable strayed far from their seminaries. She noticed that he seemed almost . . . tired of having to deal with people, yet despite his attempts to distance himself from the general public, he still seemed to hold compassion for them. On three occasions since they entered the city, he had helped people, even when he didn't have to. While all he seemed to want to do was find a room to lock himself into away from the crowds, he managed to find the spirit to rescue a little boy's dog from a ledge.  
  
While paladins were almost expected to do these things, she was impressed by how he stuck to his principles despite the mental or emotional burden he was struggling with. The gratitude of those he had helped seemed to remind him of better times, for he actually smiled when they insisted upon thanking him. She had wondered if he was helping her because of this, but when she had asked, he had responded cryptically that, 'he had his reasons'. Yet instead of showing the reluctance that she had expected at first from his sullen attitude back at the Glade, he had become increasingly helpful, suggesting places she should look, people she should ask, and now and then, he answered some of her attempts to start a conversation. She hoped he was warming up to her, yet he still refused to tell her, or anyone else for that matter, much about himself. When she had stopped in Crow's Pub though, while Azrael stayed outside, she had asked about him, and was surprised by what she had heard.  
  
He was actually well known, if only by reputation. Azrael the Three-Lives, or Azrael Heavenblade, as was his actual name. He had apparently earned his nickname by being a man reputedly impossible to kill, getting up at least three times slay the dragons he hunted in the icy wastes of Velious. She could understand the reputation paladins had of having two lives due to their Lay Hands skill, yet this 'third life' puzzled her. When she had asked about it, the man that had been talking to her knew little more than she did. He had heard about this from another as well, and all that he could say was that those who had witnessed Azrael fighting had seen him rise once more even when they thought he had been dead to attack a final time. Some say he rose up in a halo of light, others a cloud of darkness, more swore that he was surrounded by roaring flames. All attributed it to the gods' favor, yet none apparently could agree who was his benefactor. She dared not ask him herself.  
  
It was growing late when Azrael suggested that she ask the bards at the Wind Spirit's Song. They too hadn't seen her friends, or her sister, Hillodania, in ages, yet they said that several bards were out on errands, and would be back at varying times, and that she should try again. Just as she was thanking the guild master for her help, Azrael stepped inside and said matter-of-factly, "We should get a room for the night, or week, however long this takes. Come to the Lion's Mane Inn after you're done here." He then walked back out into the shadowed streets and the rain as silently as he had come in. Lsanna sighed, and turned to apologize, but she was struck by the odd look upon one of the bards' face. "Who . . . was that?" he asked, as if he had seen a ghost instead of a man. Lsanna looked back in the direction Azrael had left and replied, "Him? That was Azrael Heavenblade. He's helping me around, why do you ask?" The half-elf seemed to grow even more disturbed, but he slowly resolved himself and shrugged, muttering, "No, it's impossible." Intrigued, Lsanna tapped his shoulder and prompted, "What's impossible?" The bard thought for a moment, then asked, "That was Azrael the Three-Lives, right, not Azrael Heavenblade of the Army of Light, correct?"  
  
Frowning, the wood elven woman stepped back, confused now more than ever, tugging on a sodden lock of chestnut hair. "You mean they're different people?" This was the first she had heard of this 'Army of Light'. "They'd have to be . . . I mean, Azrael the Three-Lives has been killing dragons and wyrms in Velious for what, two years now? While I know the names are similar, it can happen, and besides, Azrael of the Army of Light died along with the rest of the guild three years ago. Unless he's a zombie, the Azrael I just saw must've chose his surname out of respect to the other," the bard told her, making nervous gestures and repeatedly massaging his neck, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than her. "Died?" the ranger demanded, a fluttering feeling in her stomach rising. "Yeah . . . don't know the whole story, but apparently they wiped out attempting to conquer Veeshan's Peak in Kunark, for people found a massive graveyard outside the peak with the names of almost every guild member on it. A few names were missing, but that can happen if not everyone's body is found. Nobody had the keys to get in but them, so they couldn't be rezzed. Now that I think about it, there wasn't anyone who owned up to building the graveyard in the first place . . . " the bard went on, then his face went white as he realized what he had just said. "I . . . I've got to go," he stammered, then half-ran out of the building.  
  
Her long ears drooping, Lsanna just stood there, uncertain of what to think. While the bard's story checked out with several others she asked, nobody seemed to believe that this 'other' Azrael had survived, and that the one she was traveling with was a copy-cat. Still . . . nobody survived a wipeout that didn't gate or evacuate out of an area, something that would be impossible for a paladin, who would be on the front lines. And Veeshan's Peak she had heard from listening to idle talk had some kind of magical barrier around it preventing anyone from teleporting out of it. Nobody could have escaped. Yet who had buried the remains of the guild? The mysteries surrounding her companion kept growing, yet despite her doubt and slight panic, she felt like she didn't want to leave him. She knew asking him directly would not be prudent, at least not now, so she would just have to wait, and keep asking. Surely somebody knew the whole story.  
  
Walking back through the dimly lit nighttime streets, she made her way to the inn and stepped inside. There was a buffet still mostly full of food in the commons which she helped herself to, yet there was no sign of Azrael. After her groaning stomach finally felt full, she briefly asked around the room, yet getting no answers, she finally went to the innkeeper and asked if Azrael had indeed reserved a room here. The innkeeper nodded, and handed her the second key for the room, but voiced his distrust of the man, saying that the paladin looked like death warmed over, and that she should consider getting a room of her own. Assuring him she was fine, she went up the steps to the room he indicated. Opening the door, she was surprised to find it dark, but Azrael was in bed, his armor polished and piled neatly beside his bed. His sword was propped against the wall, giving the room a faint blue glow. He seemed to be sleeping, so with all the silence her elven nature could give her, she undressed and climbed into the empty bed. Unable to sleep, she lay there going over the day's events. She had asked many people many questions, yet had ended up with more puzzles than answers. Exhausted, she was about to nod off when Azrael groaned in his sleep, and whispered, "Aelyena . . . "  
  
Suddenly, Lsanna's fatigue was forgotten as her long ears pricked up at what she was extremely certain was a name. A woman's name to be precise. Azrael moaned and repeated, "Aelyena . . . " in such a heartbroken tone that the wood elf's heart leapt into her throat. As she sat up to better view his face using her innate night vision, she saw that he was crying, a slow trail of tears making their way down his cheeks as he clutched his sheets to him. She slid herself out of bed and kneeled down next to his. Did something happen with . . . or to this person that Azrael was still haunted by it? Such sympathy welled up in her that she almost felt like crying herself. She looked aside briefly to rummage through her clothes to find the handkerchief she had bought to replace her old one yesterday, and dried his tears with it. He seemed to calm down with that motion, though he still groaned every so often.  
  
Impulsively, she reached out a hand and soothingly stroked his cheeks before the beard began. To calm some of her doubts, his skin was warm to the touch, not the coldness the bard feared. She had only been doing this for a few seconds when Azrael's hand moved up and closed about her own. She gasped, fearing he had woken up, but his eyes were still closed, and his face was peaceful for the first time since she had seen him. It was then that she saw that he wasn't proportionately that much older than herself. Though the remainders of stress lines creased his face, he was still a young man. Studying him further, she found that he was pleasant to look at, although not the most handsome or beautiful of men. He finally stopped shifting, sighed, and mouthed, "Aelyena . . . " one last time before settling back down into a peaceful sleep. Amazingly, Lsanna felt a pang of jealousy at that, but reprimanded herself, knowing they hadn't been together that long. As she climbed back into her own bed after gently prying his fingers loose, she was determined that if she could not, or would not ask about the rest of his past, this "Aelyena" deserved looking into.  
  
The next morning, Lsanna awoke to find that Azrael was gone, yet his armor was still in the same place. Strangely, his sword was placed up on his bed, space cleared around it almost reverently. She frowned as she studied the cerulean-flamed blade; this was another thing that needed asking about. No Fiery Defenders were ever blue. But that was a mystery for another time, as the ranger's stomach began to growl, prompting her to get dressed and make her way downstairs. She found Azrael there, eating from a plate of cooked sausage and bread. She pulled out the stool next to him and sat down. "Good morning," he said hesitantly when he saw her, as if he didn't believe his own words. She smiled to herself and decided to act on that, "Is it a good morning? You certainly don't look like you had a good night." That wasn't true, for the dark circles under his eyes were lighter today than they had been yesterday.  
  
"I never sleep well," he admitted between bites of bread. Her heart pounding, Lsanna decided to risk asking what she had decided she wanted to know last night, "So, who's Aelyena?" The reaction he had was pretty much what she expected, he started to choke on the piece of bread he had been eating. After an extended coughing fit, he began to breathe again, and she tensed for him to yell at her. But instead, he gave her a saddened gaze, and murmured, "Nobody . . . Forget about it. We should investigate your bank account today. The server will take your order, you just have to get his attention. I'm going to get ready now . . . I'll wait for you out front." He left his mostly-eaten breakfast where it lay and walked, half- staggered to the stairs. Again, he had evaded her question, but in a way, he had confirmed that Aelyena was indeed a name, and the name of someone very close to him. As the server brought over a copy of Azrael's breakfast without asking, she was more convinced than ever that Aelyena was a woman.  
  
The rain still hadn't let up as they went out into the slick streets, and a dark gray sky hovered overhead as they made their way to the bank. Once there, she asked the teller to pull up her box. He did so, but something was clearly missing. There were two old Tumpy Tonics and the treant wood bow staff she had gotten as a back-up for her Trueshot Bow, but her money was missing. Not a single copper piece shined up at her as she rummaged through the pitiful contents. "Where are my coins?" she asked, disturbed rather than upset, she had barely thirty platinum coins' worth in there last she had checked. The banker grimaced as he checked the label that was on the side of the case, then responded, "Well miss, your account has been inactive for over two years. The bank has a rule that any account left inactive for such a period with a total money amount under a certain mark has their coins appropriated for loans. Accounts for deceased individuals or those who are totally inactive for such a time greater than ten years have their entire accounts appropriated for the benefit of the Norrath Bank."  
  
Lsanna's eyes narrowed as she demanded, "So, what does this mean?" The banker returned her intense gaze with a dissatisfied stare as he replied, "Procedure is procedure, madam, if you wanted your account to stay untouched, you'd have kept it active." The ranger's cheeks reddened with anger, and she was on the verge of telling the clerk she had been symbiotically attached to a tree for those two years when Azrael placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him in surprise, as he quietly asked to see his own account. Grateful to deal with a less irate customer, the clerk retrieved his box. Azrael's was far fuller than Lsanna's had been, with extra equipment and many spell scrolls left, along with many bags of platinum coins. Lifting one free, Azrael then placed it in Lsanna's box. "Would this be sufficient to restart her account?" Azrael asked with a level gaze at the clerk. Raising an eyebrow, the clerk nodded, clarifying, "One thousand coins is more than enough, sir, but yes, Miss Wyldfyre's account is back in good standing. Please do try and maintain it better this time."  
  
Several minutes later, she waved a brief goodbye to Azrael, who was heading off in the direction of the Temple of Thunder . . . apparently he was needed there. She was on her way to check more places when she saw the bard that she had spoken to earlier. He had been spying on the two of them, cringing off behind the corner of a building. When he saw that she had noticed him, he dashed off. Sighing, she engaged her tracking skill, following the tugging sense that indicated where he was in relation to herself. She followed him to a house where she found that one of the doors inside was locked tight. She knocked lightly, and he immediately shouted back, "Go away! I don't want to talk to you! You're involved with that thing shambling around with you all day!" She chuckled at how misinformed the man was, no dead man had body heat. "Take it easy, all I want to do is ask you a few more questions, then I'll go away and never bother you again, ok?" she called back. Silence passed for a few minutes, then she tried again, "What's your name?" It was an even longer period of time before she heard a barely audible response, "Blackout."  
  
Encouraged, Lsanna pursed her lips and asked, "Are you sure about the dates you gave me yesterday? I asked a few other people, and they didn't match up." The reply she got chilled her. "Of course they don't . . . I purposely gave them false accounts. You probably heard, but Kunark was found a year and a half ago, and Velious only seven months ago. The Army of Light did wipe out, that wasn't a lie . . . But Azrael was spotted killing dragons in Velious before even most of the first adventurers arrived there . . . it fit with the story that he'd been there all along . . . but everything I've found out says that he's the same person . . . the same person that DIED at Veeshan's Peak! And now he's here, right in Qeynos!" Only that long ago? Lsanna mentally asked herself, realizing how close she would've been to seeing these strange lands that people had described, had she not been captured.  
  
"But," she insisted, "I touched his face, he's not dead . . . what if he did escape from the Peak? Wouldn't that explain who dug the graveyard? And why he was killing dragons in Velious?" She could hear Blackout hyperventilating behind the door with her Elvish hearing, but his heartbeat was steadying. "You . . . touched him? Are you insane?" he cried after a few minutes. Disgusted with his prejudice, she grumbled back, "I told you, he's not undead, as far as I know, so just relax. You've told me what I want to know, so I'm going now. Don't follow me." "I won't . . . " came the answer from behind the door, but something didn't sound right. She could almost swear she could hear him chuckling as she exited the house.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	3. Chapter 1 part C

Although she had thought it impossible, the rain was falling even harder as Lsanna sat in the inn room reading a newspaper that she had bought. It mentioned something about the gnolls trying to sneak into the Jaggedpine forest now that it was opening up again. She shuddered as she remembered her ordeal there. If the dog-men wanted in so badly, she didn't pity them should they run into the wild beasts and treants there. She was finishing the last lines of the story as she heard the distant boom of thunder miles off. Lowering the semi-sodden parchment to the bed beside her, she looked worriedly out of the window, scanning the streets for Azrael. Her forest- green eyes could find no sign of him, the only people outside were merchants standing under the tents out in the square, who looked like they were ready to give up for the day.  
  
She ran her hands through her hair, finally dry, and groaned, as she knew the only way she'd find him would be to track him, and that meant going outside. Sighing, she gave up and threw a cloak on and headed out the door, making sure to lock it before she left. She began tracking the paladin the instant she headed out the door, and felt the pull of the human man's presence somewhere off in the direction of the bank. What would he be doing there? she wondered as she hurried off in that direction. She had just cleared the corner near the blacksmith's shop when she saw a large crowd gathered near the bridge across the aqueduct leading to the bank, and her ears picked up excited chatter, the most common words among the babble were, 'amazing' and 'impossible'. Pursing her lips, she jogged up to the crowd and forced her way through to the center, despite oaths, and people grumbling about her being 'a pushy elf'.  
  
In the small space not occupied by the ring of people, Azrael was kneeling upon the ground, holding his chest while a young human woman wearing armor coughed beside him. They had apparently swum up out of the aqueduct, as they were thoroughly soaked to the skin. "What happened?" Lsanna asked an older human man with graying hair behind her. The man responded in a tone of disbelief, "This man just rescued Renara, the daughter of the guild master of the Knights of Thunder from the Bloodsabers down in the sewer all by his lonesome! I've never seen the like!" Bloodsabers? she thought worriedly, for in a flash, she remembered that they were the necromancers and shadow knights worshipping Bertoxxulous in the sewers. In that moment, several armored paladins showed up, among whom was an old man who she assumed was the guild leader and Renara's father.  
  
As Renara stood up and dashed to her father, Lsanna noticed Azrael wasn't getting up. He was still kneeling there on the ground, his chest heaving. He suddenly gave a series of great hacking coughs and he spat blood onto the ground. Alarmed, Lsanna ran to his side and helped him sit up. Though he didn't appear heavily wounded, his face was very pale, and a trickle of blood was still coming out of his mouth. Though she wasn't sure how much good it would do, she began healing him with her magic, such as it was. As she ran out of mana, and sat down to meditate, Azrael coughed once more and gave her a weak grin, and muttered, "It'll take forever that way, you know." "But I want to help," she protested, smiling to encourage him. As she regained full mana and began casting again, the guild leader noticed her attempts to heal the savior of his daughter, and made it irrelevant by having his compatriots heal him themselves.  
  
Although he was now fully healed, Azrael still held his hand to his abdomen, and Lsanna had to help him stand up. As she did so, his hand shifted and she could see that he had been holding a plate closed there, not because he was still wounded. Inside, she could see the glitter of some kind of talisman . . . but before she could inspect it further, Azrael noticed her looking and shut it tightly again. "Just help me back to the inn, will you, please?" he asked, in an exhausted tone. As she helped him walk, supporting him with his arm around her shoulders, he seemed to regain his strength just by walking with her. As they walked, the ranger glanced up at him, and remarked, "That was a very brave thing you did, facing a whole guild by yourself to rescue that woman." "I had . . . help," he told her, though he didn't seem too happy about that fact. Because he didn't seem to want to talk about it, they hobbled along in silence the rest of the way to the room.  
  
Azrael collapsed heavily onto the bed into the room, still breathing heavily. He knew he would be out of action for a while, but not because of any reason the others suspected. Carefully removing his breastplate so that the broken latch stayed closed, he still wondered why he felt sick and weak after using the amulet's power. This was the first time that he had coughed up blood after using it, but then again, he had used more of the power than he wanted to, trying to rescue Renara. He noticed Lsanna gazing at him worriedly, and he smiled to try and comfort her, but the grin came out twisted from the pain still in his chest.  
  
The wood elf was not fooled by his smile; she knew he was still hurting somehow. She then noticed that the shirt he had been wearing under his armor was ripped and torn. "Here, take that off and I'll mend it for you," she told him, reaching over to remove it for him. As she took the hem of the underside of the shirt in her hands, he placed his own right had over hers and muttered, "I can do it myself, don't worry about it." Rolling her eyes, she chuckled and remarked, "Don't try to be tough, I know you're not up to it, stop being such a baby!" She tugged hard and yanked the shirt out of his grip and before he could protest, she had pulled it over his head. She then gasped at what she saw before the paladin could cover his chest. Though she had expected an experienced warrior to have more than a few scars, the massive band of scar tissue over his ribcage shocked her. It looked like he had literally taken an axe to his chest.  
  
"How . . . did that happen?" she whispered, a hand over her mouth in shock. To her surprise, he answered her, albeit in a very bitter tone, "A dragon did that." His eyes were filled with dull anger and hatred, undoubtedly towards the dragons he had hunted, yet there was a touch of sadness there as well. She sat beside him on the bed and placed a hand on his crossed arms, where he had covered the scar. "Is that . . . why you were hurt earlier? Because of your old injury?" The anger faded from his eyes to be replaced by sadness once more. "No . . . " he responded slowly, then, tentatively, he unclasped one of his hands and gently gave hers a squeeze. With one arm still folded over his chest, he reached behind the bed and pulled out a spare shirt and quickly put it on. Lying down on the bed with a groan, he told her softly, as it hurt to breathe, "You'll have to get dinner on your own tonight. I . . . don't feel much like eating."  
  
"All right . . . feel better, ok?" she replied, running her right hand carefully over his shoulder, trying not to hurt him, before leaving, slowly closing the door. It was still too early for the inn to start serving dinner, so she headed back out into the streets, deciding to try one last place to ask questions before eating. She headed further south than she had before, heading along the docks. Looking inside the last gate, she saw a tavern named Fish's Ale, which she hadn't tried before. She stepped inside, ignoring the glare that the bouncer gave her as she lightly shook off the rainwater that had clung to her cloak. The thunder that she had heard earlier was swiftly approaching; she didn't want to be stuck here any longer than necessary.  
  
She repeated her questions to the barkeep, not expecting an answer, but to her surprise, his eyes widened when she described the large barbarian warrior she had traveled with. "Oh yeah . . . " the bearded human man, drying his hands on his apron exclaimed as he thought carefully, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Big fella, right? Bigger'n most barbs, right? Eight feet tall, unless my old lady's a gnoll!" Lsanna nodded excitedly, that described Ursus perfectly, but she had to be sure, prompting, "Are you sure it was him?" The barkeeper chortled, and told her, "Lady, I'd never forget this chap. I was bringing a cask in when I saw him yank a fish out of the water using his teeth . . . with a shark at the other end! Yet he didn't let go, he won that little tug o war, and then ate the poor fish despite it being more ragged than my dishtowel." Lsanna laughed wholeheartedly, remarking, "He's outdone himself this time . . . last time he did that trick, it was with an alligator!" "You don't say . . . " the barkeeper muttered with a smile, as he took and cleaned a glass from a patron.  
  
As a boom of thunder sounded not far away, Lsanna asked hurriedly, "Did he say where he was going?" This puzzled the barkeeper, and for a moment, the wood elven woman was worried that he would have forgotten this more insignificant detail. But the barkeep snapped his fingers and replied, "Yeah, sure 'e did! He and his sister were headin' with their friends back to Freeport, didn't know where they were goin' after that, but that'd be a good place to start looking for 'im! Though it was two years back, you can't avoid going through Freeport if you want to come back to Antonica by boat, or go to Faydwer! I'd ask the port master meself." Lsanna grinned; this was what she had been waiting for. "Thanks very much, sorry I can't stop for a drink, but maybe some other time!" she exclaimed, giving his grizzled cheek a peck before dashing out the door excitedly. "Gee . . ." the barkeep muttered, blushing.  
  
Lsanna found herself almost unable to eat as she ate dinner in the main sitting area inside the inn. She was sure that such a busy city as Freeport would have more news than the more sleepy Qeynos. She was so happy she decided to buy a round for the patrons in the bar, and didn't stop talking with people until she realized it was very late, and excused herself. Once again, as she stepped into the room, Azrael was asleep again, he hadn't moved since she had last saw him. She watched his sides rise and fall with his breath for a while before getting ready for bed herself. It had been an exciting day, but she found herself falling asleep far faster than she had done the night before.  
  
It was around midnight that Azrael opened his eyes. He sat up hesitantly, expecting pain, but was relieved to find that it had been far reduced by his rest. He would still have to take it easy though. He had heard Lsanna talking down in the common room earlier, and now knew that she had found where to go next. He had gotten her started on the path, so she would be fine without him . . . or so he hoped. As he pulled his armor on again, he watched her sleeping contentedly. He felt a pang of regret as he fastened his cloak to his pauldron. He had found himself genuinely growing to like her in the few days they had been together, but she was getting too close, too fast. He hadn't meant for her to see the scar earlier that day, but she was sure to grow more curious as the days went by.  
  
He had been reminded of too much, being in this city. He needed to be alone again . . . someplace where nobody would find him, this time. No one else would have to suffer because of him. Especially not Lsanna, he thought as he walked to the door as silently as he could. As he opened the door a crack, she shifted and sighed, and for a moment, Azrael didn't want to leave at all. But being here, being this close to her . . . Lsanna reminded him too much of HER. No, he had to leave, or else she'd be drawn into his spiral of grief. Taking one last look at the wood elf, he stepped out into the hall, and closed the door behind him. The thunderstorm was raging as he went outside, but he didn't care. If he was struck by lighting, that would be a blessing. Weaving through the dark empty streets, he headed out the city gate and headed north. North sounded good to him, someplace cold...like before.  
  
To be continued . . . 


	4. Chapter 1 part D

Lsanna awoke to two feelings initially…coldness from the storm outside, and a strange tingling feeling on her back. Raising her shirt, she ran her hands over the sensitive spots and puzzled over the sensation before she remembered that those small ovals were where the suction cup tentacles of the dryad had been attached to her. Moderately disturbed by the feeling, she decided that she would seek out a priest later to check her over, but as she was lowering her shirt again, she paused. Though she had gone to bed with the cloth shirt feeling relatively loose, it was tight and clinging to her chest today. Standing up, she realized the same was true of her cloth pants; they now wrapped tightly around her hips and the hem of the legs were almost halfway up her shins. Looking down, she realized that everything else seemed smaller as well. I…grew? she thought incredulously. Sure enough, comparing her height against the doorjamb, the top of her head was a good three or four inches taller. Though it wasn't unusual for a human to grow a few inches just as they were entering full adulthood, she hadn't grown for thirty-eight years! She absolutely needed to tell Azrael about this, but as she whipped around, she found…

He was gone. Not a single article of his belongings remained, unlike the past few days. His bed was made and smooth. A quick attempt at tracking revealed that he was nowhere close…he had left her sometime during the night. She sank to her knees even as her heart likewise plummeted to her feet. Why now? He had been so reluctant to accompany her at the beginning, but despite his complaints, he had never abandoned her until now…Just when she had finally found clues to the location of her friends. She considered her options…she could go by herself to Freeport, but she didn't remember the path across the plains, and she didn't know when or if she would run into a wizard. Or she could try searching for Azrael, wherever he may have gone, but he could have left for anywhere…for all she knew, he was back in the deepest reaches of Velious by now.

Though her desire to find her friends was as strong as ever, something else began tugging at her heartstrings now. She didn't want to journey alone without Azrael. Though she had known him for only four days, she felt…tied to him. Something inexplicably bound her to him, they had felt…right together, as if the fates had meant it to be. "Tunare…please let me find him," she prayed, clasping her hands in front of her chin. Determined, she stood up and began to change, hurrying into her armor, which luckily had enough give to fit her strange new height. As she gathered her belongings, she glanced out the window, to discover that it was still early morning, for the light was dim with no help from the poor weather. As she went to the door, she sighed deeply as she gazed fondly at the room. This had been home while she had recovered herself, her place in the world. But her real home lay on Faydwer, many miles to the east.

She silently peeked out into the hall, and finding nobody there, she crept as stealthily as she could to the steps so as to not wake anybody up. The innkeeper was awake, but couldn't tell her much as she returned her key other that the first key to her room was there on his desk when he awoke just an hour ago, and he had no idea where Azrael had went. As she stepped outside, the storm had been reduced to a mere drizzle, but she could still hear thunder off in the distance. She tried tracking again, but still could find no trace of the paladin. She ran to North Qeynos and repeated her search. Though she strained with her mind until her skull pounded, she did not find any hint of Azrael's presence. She dashed out the gate of the city, surprising the guards as they changed for the morning. Skipping over rats and snakes and weaving between gnoll pups, she made her way out to the Qeynos Hills, and tried tracking again to no avail. Her fears were true; he had gotten a large head start on her. Her head dropped to her chest as a rising sense of defeat filled her. The mental picture of Azrael filled her head, his sad smile, his piercing eyes, and the image of his cloaked figure walking away.

Almost as she was ready to give up, the tingling that had been plaguing her back since she woke up unexpectedly began to climb up her spine and make its way to her head. Alarmed, Lsanna braced herself for what it could mean as her skull almost rattled with the feeling. The tingling concentrated itself into her left eye, and then slowly faded to a dull tremble. Whimpering, she slowly opened both her eyes, and gasped at what she saw. Swirling on the ground were phantom footsteps that looked like they were made of golden mist. She knelt to touch one, but her fingers passed right through. Looking up again, she saw they stretched out towards Blackburrow and inside the gnoll's head entrance. Could this be a blessing from Tunare? she wondered as she followed the trail of the footsteps to the home of the gnolls.

Azrael looked out over the large frozen lake as he shivered. Winter's Deep…he had found it. Somehow, the passage there had been covered up by ages of snowfall, but he knew how to get there as if it was etched into his memory. Another mystery that he couldn't explain. As he had walked through the snow-covered valleys of Everfrost, the rain that had soaked him thoroughly had frozen to his body, and tunneling through the snow and ice to reach the hidden lake had made things worse. The parts of him that weren't aching from the cold were dangerously numb, but he didn't care. This place was perfect…nobody had come here in ages, and few knew of its existence. Shuffling through the heavy, unbroken snow, he circled the lake until he found what he was looking for: an old snow-covered cottage.

Making his way inside, he found that although cold as the grave, the house was empty, and free of snow. The stone floor was bare of almost all adornments, with the exception of a well-preserved looking bearskin rug. And there was a low-placed shelf that would prove excellent for rebuilding his 'altar'. Though his fingers were stiff and shook with the cold, he wrenched his Fiery Defender from its sheath and placed it carefully on the shelf and gazed at it as he had done so often since that day so long ago. And, faithfully, the grief began to well up anew, and he murmured the litany that still came easily to his lips, "Aelyena, I'm sorry."

Lsanna had increased her pace as she grew adjusted to following the glowing footsteps as she entered Everfrost Peaks. Though she had half expected them to disappear into, or be dampened by the snow, they still shone brightly on top of the frozen ground. She had never been into the peaks before, she realized, as she jogged through the winding passes through the mountains. This is Ursus and Mistii's home…and to think they used to run around here wearing little more than kilts! How could they stand it? she wondered, as she could feel the cold intensely through her own heavy fur cloak.

Abruptly, the winding paths opened out into a large open plain of rolling hills. This way leads to Permafrost, doesn't it? the ranger thought as she struggled to see through the ever-falling snow. Though she knew it was dangerous, she resumed her running, and headed out into the plains, taking care to avoid the snow leopards. It was as she was nearing the frozen river that she encountered another marvel, snow orcs. She almost giggled as she saw their plum-hued countenance, but she realized that this variant would certainly prove as savage as the Crushbone orcs if she wasn't careful, so she kept running, making sure not to lose sight of the trail of footsteps. After she crossed the lake, the trail suddenly ran into a wall of snow and disappeared. Lsanna froze, her brow wrinkled in concern at this new development.

Experimentally, she pushed at the mound of snow, and to her surprise, she found it was loosely piled there, as if just from new snowfall. Digging further in, she found a tunnel leading back off into darkness, sized appropriately for a human-sized man to crawl through. If Azrael indeed came this way…what could he be looking for? It is appropriate I guess, since he spent some months in Velious, which is supposedly all like this… Lsanna pondered, as she saw the footsteps turn to little slits, which she guessed was where the paladin's boots had dug in as he crawled through the tunnel. Hesitating no longer, she ducked down and crawled through the tunnel, using only the footsteps to guide her. As she inched along, she found that though she could see them, the trail gave off no real glow, the sides of the tunnel were dark as night as she went further in…this ghostly trail was in her perception only.

When she emerged, Lsanna could scarcely believe her eyes. "Winter's Deep," she breathed, looking across the vast frozen body of water. She recalled studying maps of Norrath in her childhood like everyone, and though Winter's Deep was marked clearly on the map, nobody knew how to get there. But apparently Azrael did. Gazing backwards towards the tunnel, and gauging the direction, she realized that the frozen river back in Everfrost fed the lake through the underwater current. This was an amazing discovery, but that wasn't her current concern. The snow was falling less heavily here, and through her elven sight, she could see a cottage off in the distance, with a blue light in its windows. The footsteps went off in that direction. Hurrying, she almost sprinted to the low, primitive building. The door opened creakily to her touch, and she stepped inside eagerly. She did not see Azrael immediately, until her eyes drifted to the floor. He was slumped beside the shelf, his face nearly white from the cold.

Images wheeled through Azrael's mind as he drifted through dreams. They were always different, yet he somehow was lucid enough to realize that he was dreaming. These visions went by so fast, yet he could somehow remember them when he awoke. Scenes from others' life, never his own, the people were familiar to him, yet he had never seen them before. The emotions that came along with these dreams were almost as varied, but with their swiftness, his heart and mind were set on a roller coaster, leaving him disoriented. Yet after what seemed merely seconds of these dreams, the same nightmare began, night after night. He was back inside the Peak, on that day…

All around him, screams resounded off the walls. In front of him, one of the greatest of dragons, Phara Dar…The dragon they had come to defeat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another blue dragon, Silverwing, decimating the left flanks of the guild. They had not anticipated this; the hubris of the Army of Light had been too great. A mere straggling magician had brought the second dragon to the battle, a preventable mistake had the mage sacrificed himself by standing in place, and waiting for the guild to resurrect him later after their victory. Yet he had run right to them, and had sealed their fate along with his. Azrael could see the horror unfolding exactly as it had done over the past year…Dragon fire raged, cutting swaths through the gathered adventurers, while the huge talons and fangs of the great wyrms did their work up close.

He remembered Aegisius, the leader, shouting orders to the others, but everyone was too frightened, or too angry to listen to him. It became moot when Phara Dar's claws decapitated the old paladin. Azrael had been using his power sparingly until then, yet he remembered his breath going short, and his heart pounding a mile a minute as he used the maximum of the amulet's power to try and save his companions' lives. Yet to his left, Liucian, a high elven enchanter was being scraped lifeless along the ground by Silverwing, while to his right, Ulic and Cay, the twin half elven bards who had become two of his closest friends lay crumpled on top of each other, as Ulic had vainly tried to shield his brother from Silverwing's breath, only to have them both die. Some woman was screaming at them to run, but by the time Azrael heard her cry over the roar of the battle, there were barely twenty of the guild left.

And after that last scream to escape…Azrael wished he could close his eyes to what would happen next, but he couldn't, he was powerless to stop viewing this dream as he had been to stop the following events in the past. As he leapt up with his sword charged with the amulet's power to try and strike a critical blow at Phara Dar's flank, the ancient dragon whipped his tail around and swatted the paladin like an irritating fly. He could not feel the pain of his ribs breaking as he hit the wall, but he could somehow remember the crushing pressure it had on his lungs. But he still got up, just in time to see the greatest failure of his life.

Phara Dar had righted himself, and was plunging a talon straight for his heart, to impale him like he had done to so many others. Through the blood that was trickling into his eyes, as he struggled to his feet, he saw the torchlight dim as the shadowy frame of someone moved in front of him. As he straightened, he knew who it was immediately. This golden-haired woman, who wore armor much like his own, the person he loved more than life itself, had thrust herself in front of him to try and avert the coming blow. He wanted to scream, to cry, to yell at her to get out of the way, to save herself, yet Aelyena refused to move. Her flaming sword was moving into position, yet it was too slow, and the claws of the dragon were approaching impossibly fast. It was as if time had slowed down, and despite the agonizing effort, his limbs would not heed him. He once again saw the spray of blood, the screech of metal, and that gasping cry…that one sound that tortured him the most, escaped Aelyena's lips as she died. As she began to fall, he saw the horn coming, yet once more, he could not stop the dragon from plunging it through her chest and beyond, raking him deeply to finally plunge deep into his frame.

They fell then, and the last thing Azrael could remember was disbelief, unable to come to terms with Aelyena's death so much as his own impending mortality. Then, there was only blackness. The same deep sadness that continued to tear him apart pierced through the dream, leaving him aching in the dark of this nightmare. But then, unlike the many cold nights before, he could feel someone's arms closing about him from behind. The pain and sadness faded, to be replaced by warmth, as he could feel the slight frame of a woman embracing him, holding him tightly to her chest. "Aelyena?" he whispered, trying to look backwards, yet he could not see her face. But that ceased to matter as a sense of peace came over him, and the darkness began to brighten, until he was bathed in a cloud of pure white.

Weakly, Azrael opened his eyes, finding them watery with tears. Blinking furiously, he tried to clear them away, only to find he lacked the strength. He could hear a female voice shushing him, then a feminine hand came close to his face bearing a handkerchief, and dried his eyes. "Aelyena?" he repeated softly, though he knew it impossible. To his surprise, as his vision focused, Lsanna's face came into view, smiling with relief. "Thank Tunare…" she murmured with warmth in her voice, "I didn't think you were ever going to wake up." As the paladin gained his bearings, he saw that he was still in the cottage, but his armor had been removed and piled loosely in a corner, and they were both lying on the bearskin rug, wrapped in both their cloaks, like blankets. She had pulled him up into a half-sitting position, and had leaned him against herself as she braced her back on the stone wall. It was her body heat that he had felt, even through the dream.

"How…?" he gasped, "How did you find me? Can't I ever leave anyone behind?" Lsanna seemed hurt, but he was surprised as she laid a warm hand on his still-cold cheek. She shook her head with a sad smile on her face, "You're lucky that I did find you, praise Tunare. You were nearly frozen to death…honestly, did you even stop to think of what would happen if you trod soaking wet into a blizzard?" He coughed and attempted to smirk as he replied, "It…never stopped me before." She shushed him again, telling him, "Quiet, save your strength…you were sick to begin with, you could have died." "I should have…a long time ago," he began, but she placed a finger to his lips and held him tighter to her. He was going to protest, but every thought that came into his head left him before he could put what he wanted to say into words. Laying like this, as the wood elven woman held him, reminded him so much of the way Aelyena had held him in the past. Drowsiness overtook him, and he fell asleep again, this time to a silent, dreamless sleep.

Azrael awoke finally to the sound of howling wind outside. This time, he was lying by himself on the bearskin rug, still wrapped in the cloaks. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't raise himself more than onto his elbow. Lsanna was standing by the window, gazing out into a snowstorm. Noticing him looking at her, she turned back and gave a small smile, remarking, "Well, it looks like we're snowed in for a while. But…in a way, that's good, as you're not fully recovered yet." Though weak, and his joints ached, Azrael realized that he could breath clearly, so long as he didn't inhale too deeply, as he found out when a coughing fit wracked his frame as he tried to draw a full breath. Alarmed, Lsanna kneeled down next to him, and held him until the coughing subsided. Looking at her through half-lidded eyes, Azrael gasped, "Why…are you doing this?"

Rubbing his back, Lsanna responded, "I've had some practice doing this for my own sister, but I wanted to help…not just because you saved me, but…because I consider you a friend. Azrael's eyes darkened, and his head lowered. He said in a tortured voice, "Friend? Most of my friends are dead. And those who live…? They surely believe me dead as well. Almost everyone I've met since I came here…has met with disaster." Forcing himself up to stare intensely into Lsanna's shocked face, he continued as forcefully as he could, "They died, and I couldn't save them! I have this 'great power', yet even that could not keep them from death!" He lowered his head again, and groaned in a stricken tone, "It couldn't even save Aelyena."

"Who…is Aelyena?" Lsanna asked, repeating her question from before. "She is…was…my wife," Azrael replied without hesitation. Dumbstruck, the ranger could only sit in silence with a hand up halfway to her lips in surprise. Bitterly, Azrael continued, "What you heard is true…with some differences. Yes, I was a member of the Army of Light who died almost to a man at Veeshan's Peak almost a year ago. As far as I know, I'm the only survivor." He buried his face in his hands as he sat up fully, continuing, "Aelyena, she…She sacrificed herself to save me, for though she died, I awoke three days later to find myself in a sea of corpses. And among the bodies of my friends and comrades, I found my wife, irretrievably lost along with the rest of them. I could not save any of them…not one. It had been too long…too long without a resurrection. Had I awoken a day earlier, I could've done something, but…I tried and tried…and no matter how many times I cast the spell, Aelyena wouldn't wake up, none of them would."

Azrael lowered his hands, and Lsanna could see that his face was stained anew with tears. He went on, "I buried them myself, after hours of dragging them out of the Peak. First…I had…dealt with Phara Dar, achieved my revenge…but it felt hollow to me." The paladin lifted his eyes to gaze at the sword of blue flames still lying on the shelf across from him. "That sword…was hers," he remarked, and Lsanna did not need to guess to know whom he meant. "I had placed the snuffed hilt on the cairn where I had buried her, but as I did, I could hear her voice in my mind, but I couldn't make out the words…When I touched the sword again, it came alight, glowing as blue as my wife's eyes…Some shard of her is still in there, I believe," he explained, and Lsanna found that the look in his eyes that he had given the sword many times earlier in her presence was that of devotion of a husband to his wife. But his eyes grew sad again, and he told the wood elf, "I thought she was giving this sword to me for means of revenge…to exact my vengeance on the race of creatures that had taken our way of life from us, and had taken her from me. Yet no matter how many dragons I slew in Velious, whose existence I learned of shortly after, nothing could end the grief I felt."

"What…caused you to come back then?" Lsanna asked quietly, crying herself at this point. Sullenly, Azrael responded, "I had been fighting alone, yet one day, a guild came along and asked me for my help in a raid of their own. They were smaller in number than most, but determined. They reminded me so much of the Army of Light that I joined them, a move I now regret. The Ravensmiths…They died too, though that hasn't been as widely circulated as my former guild's demise." "How?" Lsanna whispered. Azrael began to tell her, but sagged back down onto the rug. "It's…complicated. This is why I don't want to involve anyone in my troubles any more. I was sent here for a purpose…Though I cannot remember what that is. In trying to accomplish this, my friends have died, one after the other," he replied, then turned his head to look directly at her.

"This is why I left you…because I don't want you to get hurt. You've found your clue…you don't need me any more. Had you left, you could've gone on, maybe found your friends, and my misery could've ended here…" Azrael told her, but before he could continue, Lsanna interrupted him, crying, "But I don't want to leave! I need you more than ever!" Taken aback by her forcefulness, Azrael fell silent as he gazed in surprise at her tear-lined face. "You say you came here for a purpose, and that your friends died because of that…I don't believe that! Your friends died so you could live on, and fulfill that goal," she choked, clenching a fist at her side. She knelt down next to him and turned his face so his hazel eyes were aligned with her green ones. "Your…wife, Aelyena, she gave her life so that you could do what you were placed here to do. Are you really going to accomplish this by killing dragons and hiding yourself away in the snow?" she demanded, her tears falling into his beard.

She was right…he realized, he had been living for vengeance only, abandoning his post, hiding away from what he had been sent here to do. "You're…you're right…what have I been doing? I've been charging off in the wrong direction…and I don't know what my purpose was even supposed to be anymore…" he groaned, closing his eyes from the sense of guilt that hit him. Yet amazingly, Lsanna once again embraced him, holding onto him as she rocked him gently in her arms, saying to him, "You can still change things, you know…Even if you can't remember what you were supposed to do, if you come along with me, maybe you'll find out…Even if you can't, I'll help look for you. After all, isn't that what friends are for?" Azrael didn't answer, but he relaxed in her arms, and they lay there together as night fell once again outside, as the snow came falling silently down outside.

For once, the nightmare of the massacre at Veeshan's Peak didn't plague Azrael's dreams. But this did not mean his dreams were peaceful. The strange flashes of the lives of other men were becoming more concentrated, at the center of them was a bearded man, a paladin like himself, slightly younger than his father, with blue hazel eyes. This man . . . who was he, and why did he seem so familiar? Twice he came face to face with him, and the man's mouth moved, but Azrael couldn't hear any words. Yet somehow it was clear that this older man was speaking to him, and what he had to say was of dire importance, yet some barrier remained between them. This time, after the visions were done, instead of the flashback to the Peak, the dreams faded to blackness, but the silent images were replaced by whispers of voices that he realized with a shock, were from his own life.

Keeper of the Third Power . . .

. . . we're uninvolved in your duty . . .

. . . could draw a Fallen here . . .

. . . a request of you and your eventual Companions . . .

These snippets of past conversation intrigued him, but they began to fade away as he tried to gain cognizance of them, dissolving into incomprehensible hisses. Straining harder, he woke himself up, his eyes snapping open to find that it was dawn. Rosy light peeked through the shuttered windows, and he could hear the crackle and popping of a fire. Sitting up with a grunt, he spied Lsanna tending a small fire in the fireplace, prodding it occasionally with a longer stick to keep the logs burning. He noticed her left ear twitch as she heard him rise, and she turned around and almost chirped, "Morning!" She's in a good mood today . . . Azrael thought to himself, taking a deep breath. And for once, he could, without any problems.

As he watched her work, a question that had been bugging him for a while surfaced in his mind. "Just how did you find me here? As far as I know, only I knew of how to get to Winters Deep," he asked out of the blue, startling the ranger. Shaking off her surprise, she replied with a shrug, "I don't know how I did it, will of Tunare maybe . . . but I followed your trail by a path of glowing footsteps." THAT caught Azrael's attention. "Glowing footsteps?" he prompted, his interest piqued. "Yes," she replied matter-of-factly, "As if I could see every place you had stepped. They started to appear in the Qeynos Hills, and I followed them right to you." But then her brow furrowed as she remembered what prompted the steps to appear. "The thing is . . . this started happening when I felt some odd tingling on my back . . . you know, where the dryad had attached himself to me? Also, its been continuing these past few days, though its getting better. The steps haven't appeared again, but I've still been getting taller," she explained.

Taller? Azrael wondered, and got to his knees, than slowly stood up. Lsanna stood up as well, putting out a hand to his shoulder to steady him. As she did so, Azrael realized that what she was saying was true, she had grown a half a foot! She had been five foot two when they had set out from Surefall, but now she was as tall as a human woman at five foot eight inches. Though he was still taller than her at six feet, this was quite a change. "Maybe the dryad acted as fertilizer? You are a wood elf, aren't you?" he joked with a smirk, and though she elbowed him for poking fun, she laughed too. Quieting down, she remarked, "It is serious though . . . these things are happening to me, and I don't know why . . . " This time, it was Azrael who reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder as he told her, "Don't worry, we'll keep a watch on it, and if it turns serious, I'm sure there are those who would know what to do."

She relaxed at that, and they both sat down before the fire. As they gazed into the flames, Lsanna thought of something, and turned to look at Azrael. "Ok, since you asked a question, I get to ask one, ok?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap. "Shoot," Azrael replied nodding, but corrected himself upon seeing her confused expression, "Err, go ahead." Taking a lock of her chestnut brown hair in her hand in a gesture that reminded him of someone, she asked, "You said you had a purpose to be here...what is that? And, what do you mean by being here? Is it like some kind of destiny thing like the Mithaniel Marr priests are always talking about in Felwithe?"

Azrael shook his head and replied, "Not just a purpose, a duty. I . . . dreamed about it last night I think. All I can remember are bits and pieces though." Leaning down onto her elbows to gaze up at him with her large green eyes, she tilted her head and encouraged him, saying, "Well, what do you remember?" Putting a hand to his chin to scratch at his beard, Azrael responded, "I remember something about something or a group of somethings called the Fallen . . . " Lsanna shivered, and remarked, "That sounds ominous, doesn't it?" Azrael continued, "Then there was something about the Third Power, and I have a strong idea as to what that is . . . " He reached out a hand and pulled over his breastplate and gently flicked open the still broken hatch on the abdomen.

Though it had become a familiar thing in the nearly four years he had possessed it, Lsanna was entranced by the sight of the Amulet. In the firelight, she could see the six gold and silver triangles glimmering around the central white crystal pyramid, all set inside the circle of green crystal. Unbidden, her hand stretched out to touch it, and as her flesh touched mythical metal, there was a sudden bright flash, and she jumped back with a yelp. Azrael nearly dropped the armor piece in surprise, but he blinked to clear his eyes and was even more shocked by what he saw dangling from Lsanna's fingers. In her hand was a gold and silver necklace that replicated on a smaller scale the triangle in the center of the Amulet. It was composed of the three large gold outer triangles and the three silver inner ones, yet there was no pyramid in the center, only empty space.

Her eyes wide in bewilderment, Lsanna gasped, "Has this happened before?" Azrael frowned as he pondered the significance of this phenomenon. "No . . . " he replied, "But it is obviously something important. The Amulet somehow . . . recognized you. That necklace is surely a sign of that." The wood elven woman appeared still uncertain, gazing down at the talisman in her hand. "Why don't you put it on?" Azrael suggested. Nervous, Lsanna undid the clasp and looped the necklace about her neck and fastened it. She wasn't aware of any immediate change, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Yet Azrael could tell that something had happened the instant she had put it on. He could feel her . . . her presence in relation to his. This was the something that he had thought of. Was she the first of these . . . Companions? If so, he could finally explain why he had felt bound to her even before she wore the necklace.

As he gazed past her to the fire, he suddenly realized something. "Lsanna . . . how did you build that fire?" he asked with growing suspicion. Not recognizing the tone in his voice, she replied immediately, "Oh, I found some logs piled up in a closet towards the back of the cottage, and I used a bit of magic to get it started." Azrael clapped a hand to his forehead as his thoughts were confirmed. "Lsanna . . . " he grumbled, "If you can use fire magic, we can't be 'snowed in', as you could melt the damned snow anytime you wanted." Realizing her blunder, she stuck her tongue out partially in mock embarrassment, replying sheepishly, "Oops, guess you caught me. I was waiting until you felt better, and I didn't want you running off while still feeling sick." "Now that you're better . . . " she left it hanging in the air. To her surprise, he laughed, and remarked, "Why don't we get going then? It's a long walk to Freeport."

Minutes later, both were armored up and walking through Everfrost Peaks again. Feeling much better now that he was able to move around, Azrael found himself asking about her family and friends. Lsanna was more than happy to describe her life to him, and as they passed through Blackburrow and into the Qeynos Hills, he became familiar with her parents, her friends and her mischievous sister. As they strode towards the valley leading towards the Eastern Karana plains, Azrael found himself examining some of the names she had told him in his head. Mistii . . . Ursus . . . Hillodania . . . The two former had just the barest significance for him, but Hillodania . . . where had he heard that name before? He almost growled with frustration, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He knew he had known Lsanna's sister, but where, and when?

They continued walking briskly out onto the plains until they came to the first menhir pointing out directions. Azrael described in full detail the path they would take, remembering the way perfectly, an oddity that frustrated him, as he could remember little else about the past. After going along the paths of Eastern Karana, they would rest at an inn in North Karana, then continue through the Western plains, stop in Highpass Hold, go through Kithicor Forest in the daytime, and keep on walking across the Commonlands until either they reached Freeport, or they would stop at an inn if they were tired.

He was so absorbed in describing the route that he didn't notice a farmer running towards them down the path, his eyes full of fear and alarm. As soon as he was in earshot, he began yelling, "Help! My lord paladin, help!" Snapping out of it, he turned to the farmer, noticing that the in places the middle-aged man's were torn, burned, frozen, and the man's hair was standing on end, as if he had been shocked by electricity. Grasping the man's shoulders, Azrael demanded, "Calm yourself, man! What is happening?" The terrified man turned and pointed to a cloud of smoke off on the horizon. "The farms, they're being attacked by a giant three-headed beast!!! My entire family is going to be killed if someone doesn't help us! Please, you are the only experienced adventurer I could find . . . it has already killed the men from the Temple of Life who tried to stop it!" he cried, wringing his hands desperately, almost crying with fear and exhaustion. The word flashed through Azrael's mind before the man had even finished speaking, and before he knew it, he was sprinting full out towards the cloud . . . Chimera.

Even as Azrael turned to his heels, Lsanna ran right along with him. She cried out to him to stop and explain what was going on as she ran over what the farmer had said in her mind. A three-headed monster? She had heard of no creature on Norrath who fit that description, yet the man was scared for his life, why would he lie about something that was destroying his home and family?

Yet as they ran, she realized a change had come over Azrael. Straining, she pulled up alongside him, and saw in his eyes a new kind of determination, he was going to fight this horror, by himself if need be. Her heart pounded as she dashed after him, as a sense of danger entered her mind. What was this creature that the farmer was so afraid of? If it could slay several guards without trouble, why wasn't Azrael going for help? From the way he ran, she could tell that he was heading directly for the beast. Was he trying to get himself killed?

Putting in a burst of speed to get ahead of his longer stride, she ran in front of him and spread her arms, yelling, "Stop! What is going on?" Her chest heaved with exertion, but she stood straight, and he skidded to a halt. She was tired of being out of the loop, she had finally gotten him to open up to her, to tell her of his life, but she wasn't going to let him get killed because of this new secret. Anxious, Azrael stepped closer to the ranger, but his eyes were focused on the cloud of smoke that had been growing larger as he had approached, until the elven woman had stopped him.

"Lsanna, I must do this," the paladin told the frightened wood elf, but she shook her head and demanded, "I won't let you pass until you tell me why you want to fight this thing! You didn't even ask him to describe it further . . . you just ran off as if you knew what he was talking about!" Her voice choking, she continued, "Aren't you going to ask someone for help? If it killed those men, why would you be able to stand up against it?" She had lowered her head out of tiredness, but when Azrael began to try to move past her, she raised her head and forced him to make eye contact. Trembling, she gripped his arm, and said in a soft voice, "My father once knew a man who was in his fiftieth season, and he tried to kill a fire giant to had killed a party of adventurers twenty seasons below him. He died, Azrael. He thought that he would be strong enough, but he overestimated the giant. Please tell me you aren't making the same mistake."

Azrael put his hand softly on her shoulder, but his eyes were firm. Taking his other hand, he put it under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. "Lsanna," he explained in a fervent tone she had never heard him use before, "You spoke to me of my Purpose . . . the purpose that I fought for, that my friends, my wife died for. I don't know why, but I do know now what I must do." Lsanna was shocked at the assurance he had in his voice, and she fell silent. "The creature that the farmer spoke of is called a Chimera . . . I realize now what that phrase in my dream meant when it referred to the Fallen . . . This Chimera is one of them," he told her.

As Azrael looked into her terrified eyes, he realized that she wasn't scared of the Chimera, she was scared for him! An unexpected feeling of warmth entered his heart as he realized it had been so long since anyone had cared about him in this way. Tentatively, he pulled her to him, and wrapped his armored arms about her. Lsanna was surprised as he embraced her, but she calmed somewhat as she heard what he told her next. "I was sent here to protect this world, to protect the people in it. To protect my friends, to protect the ones I love," he whispered to her as he held her tight. Pulling slightly away, he looked down at her with suddenly sad eyes as he went on, "I have failed twice in my duty . . . But I will not fail again. No more should die because I could not save them . . . I could not save my wife, but I will save these people, even if it means fighting alone. If I should die, at least nobody else shall die with me."

A faint smile crossed his lips as he muttered, "I'm not exactly defenseless . . . " Glancing down at his blue and gold armor, he tore off the hatch on his abdomen completely, and placed it inside one of his packs as the Amulet was completely revealed. The Third Power . . . only this can destroy these creatures, he thought to himself as he began running again. The dreams had meant something after all, he pondered as he hit his stride, dashing past fields and fences as he drew nearer the cloud of black smoke. He had seen visions of nightmarish creatures, the Fallen, and the Chimera was among them. Still, he realized that while there had been legends and fairy tales of Chimeras in his childhood, Norrath hadn't known them for a long time. Why now would this one appear?

Azrael shook his head as he thought, It doesn't matter why it's here, all I know is that I was told that I was chosen to fight it and its brethren. He grew frustrated again, for he could still not remember who it had been that had chosen him. All he could remember of his coming to this world was the sound of trees, of men seemingly made out of wood telling him things . . . Important things, yet since he had woken up to find his wife dead and his friends slaughtered by Phara Dar, he could not recall them. Yet he still knew how to use the Amulet, and that only its power could truly kill these things.

You have faced and defeated one of them already . . .

He recalled the mysterious voice that had told him that in his nightmares . . . Did it mean that he had already defeated a Fallen? If that was true, why couldn't he remember it? As the farms came into view, he realized that there was no time to think about it now. He had slain a Fallen before, he could do it again. But as he glimpsed what was prowling about between the charred, frozen, and shattered buildings, he was no longer so sure.

The Chimera stood as tall as a man at the shoulder, yet hunched over as it was, it was nearly as large as an elephant in bulk. The top half of its torso was dark gold furred, and had clawed paws like a lion that had been dipped in oil. Leathery wings like those of a bat or a dragon's were pulled in tight along its back, held at rest while on the ground. The lower half ended in legs like a goat's, and instead of a tail, half a snake's body sprouted from its haunches, and whipped around hissing, as if it had a life of its own. But it was upwards from its shoulders that gave the paladin the most pause. Three heads mounted its broad chest, and they only faintly resembled the animals that they could have been had they belonged to normal animals. The head on its right shoulder looked like a goat, though with fangs, and a frost-like mist billowed from down its gullet. On its left, an eagle-like raptor's head sprouted, and astonishingly, lightning crackled forth from its beak. The center head was the largest, looking nothing else but like that of a great black lion's head, maned and terrible. Fire gushed forth like a dragon's from its maw.

But what drew Azrael's attention was the odd marking upon the center head's forehead. A pentagon, made of seven triangles, arranged in a symbolic structure, with the centermost triangle an onyx pyramid. The similarity to his amulet chilled him. Yet this symbol was corrupted somehow, driving the creature it had been attached to mad, making an already dangerous creature even more vicious.

The Chimera held the corpse of a farmer fast under its right paw, frozen to the ground. Azrael could not tell if the human man had survived the flash-freezing process, but he doubted it. He could hear men and women screaming from the buildings furthest away from the Fallen, there were yet survivors, but they wouldn't survive if he fought the creature here. Even if it missed him, there was a chance it would hit the remaining farmhouses. He had to draw it away from there, but how? In the past times that he had used the amulet's power, he could only charge his sword with it, or release it in a burst around himself. If only he could throw the emerald lightning somehow . . .

He gathered his power, and instead of channeling it down his right arm and into his sword as usual, he instead tried to focus it into his left hand. Amazingly, the power obeyed him, and a ball of crackling electricity swelled into being in his palm. Concentrating, he took careful aim, and punched his hand forwards, trying to force the energy outwards. As he hoped, a thin bolt of lightning burst forth from the ball and raked the Chimera's side. The Fallen released a terrible roar from all four of its mouths, the tail shrieking along with the three heads. And all four turned to spot the paladin crouching off on the road.

Ok, now what?! Azrael thought worriedly as the beast lumbered towards him. Remembering his plan to draw the Chimera away from the farmers, he turned and ran out into the open plains. Despite its size, the Chimera could not keep up with him. As the distance between them grew, the Chimera suddenly halted, bellowing its frustration. The wings on its back extended, and with great heaving flaps, it leapt into the air. Azrael turned to look behind him when he thought he had reached a suitable distance, only to see that he was no longer followed. Worried that it may have turned back to the farmers after giving up the pursuit, he began to turn back. Yet as he took a step forwards, he felt a sudden sense of alarm, and his eyes swept up skyward. With the barest of margins, he leapt aside as the Chimera dove down out of the sky and hit the ground with a boom, clawing the ground where he had stood.

Nearly a mile away, Lsanna was still standing in the same spot, reveling in the sensation she had felt when Azrael had held her just minutes earlier. Aside from her father, it was the first time she had been hugged in that manner by a man. Though she had made many friends who were men, none of the embraces they had given her had this kind of . . . intimacy. Was this how he had held his wife? Just the warmth of him had been stunning. Yet something had bothered her, and continued to work at her mind.

As she carefully went over the recent memory, she realized what it was. Though his chest had been warm, she had heard no heartbeat as her head rested against him. Her own heart skipped a beat as this revelation hit her. Before she could ponder its implications, she remembered something else. Long ago, before her sister parted ways with her, Hillodania had hugged her in the exact same solemn way. She had been saying goodbye, never expecting to see her elder sister again . . . Without a second thought, she began tracking Azrael, her heart filled with panic, cursing her inattentiveness. Upon sensing his direction, she ran off as fast as her legs could carry her.

As the tree crystallized next to him, Azrael realized that he had chosen no easy foe. The Chimera had no trouble with long-range attacks, and had launched ice, fire, electricity, and even the snake-tail had spat poison at him. The bolts of power he shot back seemed pathetically weak in comparison, and though he could see several burns where he had struck the creature, he wasn't causing much serious damage, though the beast's left hind leg was limping. He had to get in closer, but how? He had charged the Chimera once before, only to have it leap over him as he tried to land a charged slash at one of its heads. His lapse in trying to think of a new strategy had earned him a burned arm as the Fallen spat fire at him.

He glared at the monster, hazel eyes meeting glowing crimson. The sigil mocked him, and he could now see that the black pyramid flickered with a pale plum light. Something told him that this was the key . . . destroy this emblem, and the Chimera would fall. Yet when he launched another bolt at the lion head, it merely extended a wing in front of the sigil, blocking it from the attack at the cost of a seared hole in the leathery flesh. Furious, Azrael realized he'd have to try something different if he were to succeed. Running in a strafing matter, he ran around the side of the Chimera, gladly noting that it had trouble turning to follow him. Getting around towards the back, he charged his Fiery Defender with the Third Power, and leapt towards the center head.

Yet as he rose up along the bony spine of the Fallen, he realized he had made a terrible error as the snake-headed tail whipped up to face him. It spewed poison at him, soaking his chest with the spray. Though he closed his eyes to avoid being blinded, the venom burned through his skin, causing agony. Diverting his strike from the center head, he instead landed upon the Chimera's back and turned his sword on the tail in a fury. To his surprise, the blast from the charged strike cleaved the serpent-like tail clean off, sending it writhing to the ground. Yet the Fallen did not take the loss of that limb lightly, as the wings snapped up, the claws on the end raking Azrael's back, digging through the metal.

Flinging him off, the Fallen flapped its wings, and took once again to the sky. Azrael could feel his lungs tightening as he searched the cloudy sky for his enemy. It was too soon, he cursed, he couldn't be suffering from the use of the power already, should his lungs fail, he would not have a miraculous survival this time. His heart was as calm in his chest as it had ever been since the incident, which bothered him. It seemed to him at sometimes that it no longer beated at all, but that was preposterous, he was living and breathing, how could he not have a beating heart? But his concern quickly turned from his health as a bolt of flame surged down from the sky. Azrael leapt to the side, readying his sword again. A lightning bolt darted from the sky, and this time, the paladin could not dodge it. Yet the electricity caused no damage . . . in fact, he felt stronger from the current.

Yet inside the clouds, the Fallen seemed to realize its mistake. The heavy body lurched out from the clouds and swooped downwards on this troublesome prey. Azrael saw it coming, and fired more lightning at it, yet the Chimera was more agile in the air than it was on the ground. It dodged his attacks easily, and was bearing down on him quickly. Realizing the Chimera's goal, Azrael looked for a place to hide behind, but he was out on the open plains, the farm ruins that he could've hid behind were hundreds of feet away. Hoping that the farmsteads had been evacuated, he ran that way, but the winged monstrosity behind him was getting ever closer. He had just spotted the roofs of the farms ahead when a blast of cold hit him from the back, sending him sprawling. He had dodged the blasts as he ran, but as fatigue wore him down, they had grown closer.

Landing with a great thump, the Fallen lumbered over as quickly as it could manage, and sank its claws into his legs. Screaming, Azrael swiped at its left head with his sword, but it reared the vulnerable member away and instead plunged the goat's head in and bit his left arm, sinking the teeth in deep through the enchanted metal, and into the flesh beyond. Azrael bellowed from the pain and struck again, this time at one of the forelimbs that was gashing his side. He hit the creature, and it leapt back in shock and pain. Growling, it prepared to strike him from afar, but suddenly, an arrow hit the Chimera in the side.

Both monster and man turned to see Lsanna standing upon a hill, bow drawn with another arrow nocked. The wood elven ranger was terrified, but resolute. She released the second arrow as she shouted at the Fallen, "Up here!" As Azrael healed some of his wounds with the brief respite granted him, he cried out to her, "Run away you fool! I can't lose you like the rest!" Yet she didn't run, firing another arrow that embedded itself in the eagle head's neck. The Chimera began to flap its wings, and Azrael knew that it would swoop over and kill her swiftly if he didn't do something. Groaning with exertion, he gathered up as much power as he could, and instead of shooting a bolt from the ball of energy, he threw it with all his might. Instead of dissolving, it hit like a bomb, tearing a large hole open in the Chimera's side.

The Fallen's attention was back on the paladin, but he soon regretted his desperate ploy as it landed and leapt back on top of him, the center head sinking its teeth into his neck. As the Chimera's claws plunged into his chest, Azrael realized that he had bought Lsanna's life at the cost of his own, unless he acted quickly. Drawing on strength he didn't know he had, he drew as much power into the core of his body as he could muster, reaching what he had thought were his limits, then surpassing them. He could not pause in the sensation of that much of the Third Power coursing through himself, as the Chimera too began to gather its breath for one final blast of flame. DIE!!! Azrael screamed mentally as he released the held power all at once. Unlike the normal dark green color of the power, the blast released by his Herculean effort glowed a light mint green.

The surging electricity slammed into the Chimera, throwing it into the air. As it plunged upwards, a crack appeared in the obsidian pyramid on the lion's head. It had overestimated the paladin, and instead of circling back to try and finish Azrael off, it mustered its wings and righted itself in the air, and fled off into the dark clouds, vowing revenge in what consciousness it had. Back on the ground, Azrael's head swum from loss of blood and the huge expenditure of the power he had spent. Flipping himself over, he tried to crawl towards the farms, but found he hadn't the strength. Spots floated in front of his eyes as he strained to move, and all he could hear was a dull buzz, he could not perceive Lsanna's shouts as she tried to call for help. His head slumped to the ground, and his vision faded to black as the rain started again, washing the blood that flowed from his battered body away.

End Chapter 1. To be continued in Chapter 2: Remembrance and Revelation.


	5. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Remembrance and Revelation

"Is he dead?" "Funny you should ask that . . . I'm not certain if he was alive to begin with . . . " "What do you mean by that?" " . . . Never mind." " . . . All right. He has no heartbeat or breath, so I take it that he needs to be revived regardless."

Pain was predominant among the sensations that erupted in Azrael's mind as his heart and lungs came alive anew as the resurrection spell flooded life back into his battered body. His eyes snapped open, tearing up with the strange agony the enchantment gave him in what should have been like wakening from a sound sleep. He attempted to look around, but he could hardly see with vision that was blurred and streaked with glowing spots. With a suffering gasp, he found he could not hold onto consciousness and passed out.

"That's odd . . . " "Everything about him is odd . . . " "chuckle I think I need to hear both your stories . . . but not out here, help her get him inside, won't you?"

In Azrael's feverish dreams, it was the nightmare again, but this time, something was different. He stood over the sea of corpses once more, but as he gazed at their pain-twisted faces, their eyes suddenly came open and stared back at him with a grey, dead glare. Their mouths did not open, but he could hear them whispering to him, "You failed . . . You failed us . . . You failed her . . . You failed once more..." This time, Azrael found he could speak, and he protested their sibilant rasping, crying back at them, "I did my best! I would've died with you had fate not decided something different for me!" Yet they continued their condemnation, their eyes never wavering.

From behind him, he heard a voice he recognized all too well. "Was it fate that decided that I should die while you lived?" "Aelyena . . . I never wanted you to die, you should have lived, not me," Azrael choked, as he turned to see his deceased wife's remains stand up to face him. Her eyes were closed as she shambled towards him, blood still flowing from the gaping hole in her breastplate. "You are here because you keep failing . . . You failed to save me, you failed to save first your guild, then the other . . . Now you've failed again . . . " he could hear her say, her lips moving imperceptibly. "I'm still alive, I'll succeed the next time, I promise," he murmured, unable to look at her for shame.

With an unexpected tinge of hate in her voice, she continued, "Yes, a second chance. You always get second chances . . . Why should you get bailed out again and again while we keep dying because we called ourselves your friends? You Champions . . . you take all the glory while all we get is death, anger, sorrow, and pain. If only you had never existed . . . I would not need to have been either." Doubt entered Azrael's mind as the apparition spoke . . . something was terribly wrong . . . Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her . . . no, his sword lying on the ground. With a deft move, he flipped the hilt up into his hand with his foot and muttering a silent prayer for forgiveness, plunged the flaming blade into the gaping wound of the vengeful ghost.

The thing that had appeared as Aelyena disappeared into black mist, which swirled back away from the paladin. Two glowing red eyes appeared out of the morass and burned balefully. "Why are you here? You were expunged from my body!" Azrael demanded, hefting Aelyena's Fiery Defender into a ready position. I'll always be a part of you . . . much to my regret, the cloud growled at him. As it spoke, the dream began to fade to black about Azrael. Before it passed, he could hear the specter hiss one last time, If you are to die . . . it will be at my hand, and nobody else's. I owe you and your predecessors for forcing me into existence . . . I will pay back that debt of pain a hundredfold . . .

The darkness became complete, and for a moment, Azrael panicked, but slowly the blackness softened into light, and he tenuously began to wake up. He found himself on a soft bed filled with what felt like straw. His vision was still blurry, but as he blinked furiously, he began to see things clearer. Disgusted with himself, he muttered, "This is the sixth time this has happened . . . " " . . . Are you awake? Oh, thank Rodcet, we were afraid you wouldn't pull through," he heard a woman say, and he whipped around as the sound of her voice tugged a cord in his heart. He could barely see her face, but what he could see shocked him. "Aelyena?" he gasped in disbelief, trying even harder to clear his vision.

"No, but I'm sure why you'd have a hard time telling the difference . . . my cousin and I were always hard to tell apart," the woman laughed, and as the paladin's eyes finally cleared, he could see that while she looked like Aelyena, she had dark brown braided hair and brilliant green eyes, and was obviously several years younger than his late wife. Though she was wearing a simple country girl's dress, he could detect that she had strong and developed limbs from how the sleeves were tight against her arms. "My name's Radiane . . . I'm so glad to finally meet my cousin's husband at last," the younger woman exclaimed, moving to the bed where Azrael was laying, carrying a basin of water and a cloth. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead and sighed in relief. "It looks like your fever has broken. Even after my uncle resurrected you, it didn't appear that you would ever wake up. I've had to be 'rezzed' a few times, but it looks like you took it harder than I did. I guess it's more difficult the more experienced you are I guess . . . " she explained as she set down the basin on a squat wooden table nearby.

Though Azrael was stunned by the fact that he was staring at his beloved's cousin, the word resurrection cut through the haze of his mind like an arrow through mist. "Wait, I was resurrected?" he demanded. Radiane nodded, the single heavy braid swinging across her back. "After you fought off that dreadful thing, you must have died from the blood loss. You're awfully lucky that you were near our farm . . . I'm glad I didn't have to run to Qeynos to get help, I'm still not too confident about my abilities . . . " the girl told him, her eyes downcast demurely. I . . . died? Azrael wondered, but he shook his head. He'd know if he were dead, he would have woken up in a far different place if he had. "But . . . I just passed out!" he protested, attempting to sit up, but Radiane pushed him back down with a gentle hand, giving him a sympathetic look, remarking, "It feels like that most times, doesn't it? But don't worry, you're alive now, and we're all the more thankful for it."

"Well, we'll be even more thankful after we've had a little talk . . . " a man said from the door. Standing supported by a crutch, a grizzled-looking older man with slightly graying blond hair hobbled into the room. "Uncle, I'll wait outside and keep Lsanna company, if that's all right," Radiane said, curtsying to him. The man nodded, and Radiane moved off into the room from which he had come. He too was wearing farmers' garb, but he wore on his wrists metal bracers marked with a stylized thunderbolt. The older man noticed Azrael staring, and lifted an arm and gazed at the armor briefly, then back to the younger paladin and admitted, "Yes, I'm a Knight of Thunder, well, a retired one at least." Laughing quietly, he moved carefully to a simple chair not far from the bed, favoring his left leg, relying on the crutch heavily.

The middle-aged human man sat looking at Azrael for a few minutes silently before extending a hand and saying, "I'm Hrethel, by the way." "Er . . . pleased to meet you . . . " Azrael replied, gripping the older paladin's hand a strongly as he could manage in his weakened state. Noticing Azrael's uncomfortable look, Hrethel gazed up at the ceiling as he said, "I imagine you have some questions for me, and I'll answer some right now. You're still in the West Karanas, at the farm that I manage with the help of my niece, Radiane. After her parents drowned in the cold waters of the river in Everfrost during an unexpected thaw, I've raised her myself. I'll explain some more later, but right now I have a question for you." Hrethel's head dropped down to look pointedly into Azrael's eyes. "Why are you here, alive, and my daughter, your wife, is not?"

Lsanna sat down in the 'common room' of the farmhouse, sipping some tea to calm her nerves. It had been ages since Hrethel had gone upstairs to talk to Azrael. She had tried to pass the time by talking to Radiane, and had learned some remarkable things. Her parents had died permanently when she was just seven years old during a failed expedition into Permafrost. They had been forced to flee from the frozen lair of Lady Vox by a contingent of frost giants, who followed them to the river across Everfrost when the unthinkable occurred. There had been unusually warm weather that summer, and the heat flowing up from the south had weakened the river ice. When they had tried to cross, the ice cracked, and as soon as the first pursuing giant had placed a foot on the floes, the whole surface broke apart, plunging them all into the icy water. An ice boulder trapped her mother, and her father had drowned along with her when he dived down to try and save her.

"So that's why you limp . . . " Azrael remarked. Hrethel fingered his left knee, frowning at the lingering pain in the joint. "Yeah . . . there was little I could do about it. With a spear in my knee, I wasn't getting off that ice floe in a hurry. Kind of like the time you told me about how you were having trouble with that dragon across one of them ice bridges. With the giants shooting arrows at me constantly, I couldn't even manage to cast a spell to heal myself, though it took a long time for my mana to come back enough to even do so. Had to wait for the scheduled reinforcements to arrive a full day later in order to finally get to safety. 'Course, by then, my leg was in pretty bad shape, and it never did fully heal right. They managed to get me away, but we couldn't get back to the river until four days later, and that was far too long for any of our party to be resurrected," the older paladin explained. He hadn't found himself tearing up since Azrael's story, but as his eyes began to ache, he managed to blink them back, though he had to reach for his handkerchief again.

"Ah, where was I? Oh yes, when I got back, I had to do one of the toughest things I ever had to do . . . tell my niece that her parents weren't ever coming back. I had lost a brother, but her mother and father were both gone," he went on, pausing to snort loudly to try and clear his nose. "Radiane couldn't understand it, she was too young . . . But Aelyena knew somehow, it was one of those moments of intuition she had. With my wife gone already, she had been doing without a mother herself for some years, so she knew exactly how it felt. So, she became a sort of surrogate mother for her cousin, and they remained very close after that, bless their hearts."

"You never found out what your Aunt Ravenna was suffering from?" Lsanna asked, amazed. Radiane had joined her at the table with her own cup of tea in hand. "Uncle never really got over it . . . He was so sure that it was the Bloodsabers, but the priests at the Temple of Life said that it was something no spell could inflict, and it wasn't even infectious, yet she was dying from it just the same. She just wasted away . . . the coughing got worse each year, and no medicine, no healing spell seemed to work, though Uncle spent a fortune traveling, trying every cure he could think of. This was all years before I was born . . . Aelyena was just a little girl when her mother finally died; I guess we were similar in that regard," Radiane admitted, gazing down at her half-finished cup as Lsanna reached out across the wooden table to grasp one of the human girl's hands.

"The only problem was, Ravenna had been suffering from this . . . affliction for years, ever since she was little. It would go away, sometimes for almost a year, but she always relapsed. I felt so helpless . . . Nothing that I did seemed to help, and soon it was too late. I think that's why I can sympathize with you about how Aelyena died, even though my wife didn't die trying to save my life. Actually, I think she was trying to ease my pain in a way, because she kept saying, 'It's all right . . . don't worry about it, it's been a long time in coming, and I've gotten used to it', but I wouldn't let her just give up. But in the end, it wasn't up to me," Hrethel told Azrael, really crying now as he remembered his wife's illness.

The younger man had been listening carefully, and muttered under his breath, "Sounds like cystic fibrosis . . . " He thought he had been quiet enough, but the older man's eyes snapped open, and he leaned forwards to seize Azrael's shoulders. "What? You know what disease it was? Was there a cure? Is there a cure?" he demanded, his eyes wild. "If you mean to say there was a way I could have saved her . . . " he began, his voice low, but when he saw Azrael's sad eyes, he went silent. "No . . . not even in my knowledge is there a way to cure it. It is something you are born with," the Champion explained, wishing he hadn't mentioned the disease's name at all, as he had only succeeded in briefly convincing Hrethel that he had missed a valuable chance.

"Thanks for getting my mind on something else, Lsanna," Radiane sighed, filling her cup again. "So . . . it was your uncle who pushed you to become a paladin as well even though you'd have preferred to be a cleric?" Lsanna asked, taking a sip before she spoke. Though she had paused to undo her long oaken-hued braid, Radiane soon resumed her story. "Yes, he said that I was too strong not to learn how to use a sword, plus that it was some sort of family unity thing. Though I've gotten somewhat better at it, I still don't like killing monsters . . . though I can make an exception for undead and diseased things. Rodcet Nife despises them the most, so I think I can honor his wishes there at least," she explained to the wood elf, gesturing with her slender fingers. "Well, Father never had to push me into being a ranger. I had always been taking care of things . . . well, my younger sister especially, so becoming a ranger to protect nature and my fellow elves just seemed logical," Lsanna responded, thinking about her own origins for a change. Radiane laughed lightly and said with a slight touch of sadness, "See, I was the exact opposite. I had been taken care of so much in my life that I finally wanted to give something back. Uncle Hrethel took care of me, then Aelyena . . . I just want to be strong so that I can one day be just like them." She was surprised to hear a chuckle from Lsanna, and as their matching green eyes met, the elven woman replied, "I believe we're more alike than you think."

Hrethel's face was grim as Azrael finished describing the battle with the Chimera to him. "So, only by virtue of that amulet you have, can these kind of things be destroyed?" he asked, tugging on his beard. Azrael nodded, but clarified, "There aren't any Chimeras besides this one, but there will be more Fallen, up to five more. I've already defeated one . . . so I guess I was overconfident in trying to beat this one." Noting that Azrael still wore the Amulet around his neck, the older paladin asked, "Couldn't you give that thing to somebody else so that they can try and kill it while you rest up?" Azrael looked shocked that Hrethel had even suggested it, and the blond man was taken aback by the expression on the younger man's face.

"By Karana's beard lad, I didn't ask you to give your right arm to a moss snake or anything," he muttered, and Azrael actually smiled, and waved a hand to calm him down. "I'm sorry if I gave that impression, but it's not that . . . I can't take the Amulet off, believe me, I've tried." A puzzled expression covered Hrethel's face as he replied, "You can't take it off? But it swung about easily enough when we were removing your armor, it's not like it's grafted to your neck . . . " Azrael shook his head and explained, "I think it's part of the enchantment. I can't remove it because it can never be out of contact with my skin for even a second. For that matter, nobody else can try to remove it without suffering a deadly discharge of energy. A giant in Kael Drakkel found that out the hard way."

Hrethel thought for a few minutes, and then announced with a resigned look, "Well then, I guess we'll just have to wait until you're fully recovered again, though I doubt that . . . Chimera beast will show up again after that jolt you gave it." "Really . . . I don't want to be a burden . . . " Azrael began, but Hrethel cut him off. "If you don't want to just lay around, I guess you could train Radiane a bit, don't really need to walk far to give instruction, she needs to have more courage with her sword I think," he told Azrael in a strong yet cheery voice, clearly not expecting a 'no' for an answer. Smirking faintly, Azrael gave in and responded, "All right, if you insist." Both men laughed at that.

Hrethel was turning to go downstairs to tell Radiane to start getting dinner ready when he paused, and turned around. "If you're feeling up to it . . . perhaps I could see just a little spark of that power? You could do something small . . . like oh . . . knock the bowl off the table near you," he suggested. Azrael still felt extremely tired, but looking at the lightweight wooden bowl that had been carrying cool water for the cloth Radiane had been placing on his forehead up until earlier that day, he thought he could give it a try. Reaching out a hand, he concentrated, gathered his will into his hand, then . . . nothing. Frowning, he looked at his hand, then up at Hrethel who was waiting expectantly, and stretched out his hand again and tried harder, straining to make even just a small bolt hit the bowl. Not even a flicker of light could be seen. "What's wrong?" Hrethel asked after a while, disappointed by the lack of results. "The Third Power . . . I can't control it. My power is gone!" Azrael exclaimed, his face going pale.

To be continued . . .


	6. Chapter 2a revised

Chapter 2: Remembrance and Revelation

"Is he dead?" "Funny you should ask that . . . I'm not certain if he was alive to begin with . . ." "What do you mean by that?" " . . . Never mind." " . . . All right. He has no heartbeat or breath, so I take it that he needs to be revived regardless."

Pain was predominant among the sensations that erupted in Azrael's mind as his heart and lungs came alive anew as the resurrection spell flooded life back into his battered body. His eyes snapped open, tearing up with the strange agony the enchantment gave him in what should have been like wakening from a sound sleep. He attempted to look around, but he could hardly see with vision that was blurred and streaked with glowing spots. With a suffering gasp, he found he could not hold onto consciousness and passed out.

"That's odd . . ." "Everything about him is odd . . ." "chuckle I think I need to hear both your stories . . . but not out here, help her get him inside, won't you?"

In Azrael's feverish dreams, it was the nightmare again, but this time, something was different. He stood over the sea of corpses once more, but as he gazed at their pain-twisted faces, their eyes suddenly came open and stared back at him with a grey, dead glare. Their mouths did not open, but he could hear them whispering to him, "You failed . . . You failed us . . . You failed her . . . You failed once more..." This time, Azrael found he could speak, and he protested their sibilant rasping, crying back at them, "I did my best! I would've died with you had fate not decided something different for me!" Yet they continued their condemnation, their eyes never wavering.

From behind him, he heard a voice he recognized all too well. "Was it fate that decided that I should die while you lived?" "Aelyena . . . I never wanted you to die, you should have lived, not me," Azrael choked, as he turned to see his deceased wife's remains stand up to face him. Her eyes were closed as she shambled towards him, blood still flowing from the gaping hole in her breastplate. "You are here because you keep failing . . . You failed to save me, you failed to save first your guild, then the other . . . Now you've failed again . . . " he could hear her say, her lips moving imperceptibly. "I'm still alive, I'll succeed the next time, I promise," he murmured, unable to look at her for shame.

With an unexpected tinge of hate in her voice, she continued, "Yes, a second chance. You always get second chances . . . Why should you get bailed out again and again while we keep dying because we called ourselves your friends? You Champions . . . you take all the glory while all we get is death, anger, sorrow, and pain. If only you had never existed . . . I would not need to have been either." Doubt entered Azrael's mind as the apparition spoke . . . something was terribly wrong . . . Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her . . . no, his sword lying on the ground. With a deft move, he flipped the hilt up into his hand with his foot and muttering a silent prayer for forgiveness, plunged the flaming blade into the gaping wound of the vengeful ghost.

The thing that had appeared as Aelyena disappeared into black mist, which swirled back away from the paladin. Two glowing red eyes appeared out of the morass and burned balefully. "Why are you here? You were expunged from my body!" Azrael demanded, hefting Aelyena's Fiery Defender into a ready position. I'll always be a part of you . . . much to my regret, the cloud growled at him. As it spoke, the dream began to fade to black about Azrael. Before it passed, he could hear the spectre hiss one last time, If you are to die . . . it will be at my hand, and nobody else's. I owe you and your predecessors for forcing me into existence . . . I will pay back that debt of pain a hundredfold . . .

The darkness became complete, and for a moment, Azrael panicked, but slowly the blackness softened into light, and he tenuously began to wake up. He found himself on a soft bed filled with what felt like straw. His vision was still blurry, but as he blinked furiously, he began to see things clearer. Disgusted with himself, he muttered, "This is the sixth time this has happened . . ." ". . . Are you awake? Oh, thank Rodcet, we were afraid you wouldn't pull through," he heard a woman say, and he whipped around as the sound of her voice tugged a cord in his heart. He could barely see her face, but what he could see shocked him. "Aelyena?" he gasped in disbelief, trying even harder to clear his vision.

"No, but I'm sure why you'd have a hard time telling the difference . . . my cousin and I were always hard to tell apart," the woman laughed, and as the paladin's eyes finally cleared, he could see that while she looked like Aelyena, she had dark brown braided hair and brilliant green eyes, and was obviously several years younger than his late wife. Though she was wearing a simple country girl's dress, he could detect that she had strong and developed limbs from how the sleeves were tight against her arms. "My name's Radiane . . . I'm so glad to finally meet my cousin's husband at last," the younger woman exclaimed, moving to the bed where Azrael was laying, carrying a basin of water and a cloth. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead and sighed in relief. "It looks like your fever has broken. Even after my uncle resurrected you, it didn't appear that you would ever wake up. I've had to be 'rezzed' a few times, but it looks like you took it harder than I did. I guess it's more difficult the more experienced you are I guess . . ." she explained as she set down the basin on a squat wooden table nearby.

Though Azrael was stunned by the fact that he was staring at his beloved's cousin, the word resurrection cut through the haze of his mind like an arrow through mist. "Wait, I was resurrected?" he demanded. Radiane nodded, the single heavy braid swinging across her back. "After you fought off that dreadful thing, you must have died from the blood loss. You're awfully lucky that you were near our farm . . . I'm glad I didn't have to run to Qeynos to get help, I'm still not too confident about my abilities . . . " the girl told him, her eyes downcast demurely. I . . . died? Azrael wondered, but he shook his head. He'd know if he were dead, he would have woken up in a far different place if he had. "But . . . I just passed out!" he protested, attempting to sit up, but Radiane pushed him back down with a gentle hand, giving him a sympathetic look, remarking, "It feels like that most times, doesn't it? But don't worry, you're alive now, and we're all the more thankful for it."

"Well, we'll be even more thankful after we've had a little talk . . ." a man said from the door. Standing supported by a crutch, a grizzled-looking older man with slightly graying blond hair hobbled into the room. "Uncle, I'll wait outside and keep Lsanna company, if that's all right," Radiane said, curtsying to him. The man nodded, and Radiane moved off into the room from which he had come. He too was wearing farmers' garb, but he wore on his wrists metal bracers marked with a stylized thunderbolt. The older man noticed Azrael staring, and lifted an arm and gazed at the armor briefly, then back to the younger paladin and admitted, "Yes, I'm a Knight of Thunder, well, a retired one at least." Laughing quietly, he moved carefully to a simple chair not far from the bed, favoring his left leg, relying on the crutch heavily.

The middle-aged human man sat looking at Azrael for a few minutes silently before extending a hand and saying, "I'm Hrethel, by the way." "Er . . . pleased to meet you . . ." Azrael replied, gripping the older paladin's hand a strongly as he could manage in his weakened state. Noticing Azrael's uncomfortable look, Hrethel gazed up at the ceiling as he said, "I imagine you have some questions for me, and I'll answer some right now. You're still in the West Karanas, at the farm that I manage with the help of my niece, Radiane. After her parents drowned in the cold waters of the river in Everfrost during an unexpected thaw, I've raised her myself. I'll explain some more later, but right now I have a question for you." Hrethel's head dropped down to look pointedly into Azrael's eyes. "Why are you here, alive, and my daughter, your wife, is not?"

Lsanna sat down in the 'common room' of the farmhouse, sipping some tea to calm her nerves. It had been ages since Hrethel had gone upstairs to talk to Azrael. She had tried to pass the time by talking to Radiane, and had learned some remarkable things. Her parents had died permanently when she was just seven years old during a failed expedition into Permafrost. They had been forced to flee from the frozen lair of Lady Vox by a contingent of frost giants, who followed them to the river across Everfrost when the unthinkable occurred. There had been unusually warm weather that summer, and the heat flowing up from the south had weakened the river ice. When they had tried to cross, the ice cracked, and as soon as the first pursuing giant had placed a foot on the floes, the whole surface broke apart, plunging them all into the icy water. An ice boulder trapped her mother, and her father had drowned along with her when he dived down to try and save her.

"So that's why you limp . . ." Azrael remarked. Hrethel fingered his left knee, frowning at the lingering pain in the joint. "Yeah . . . there was little I could do about it. With a spear in my knee, I wasn't getting off that ice floe in a hurry. Kind of like the time you told me about how you were having trouble with that dragon across one of them ice bridges. With the giants shooting arrows at me constantly, I couldn't even manage to cast a spell to heal myself, though it took a long time for my mana to come back enough to even do so. Had to wait for the scheduled reinforcements to arrive a full day later in order to finally get to safety. 'Course, by then, my leg was in pretty bad shape, and it never did fully heal right. They managed to get me away, but we couldn't get back to the river until four days later, and that was far too long for any of our party to be resurrected," the older paladin explained. He hadn't found himself tearing up since Azrael's story, but as his eyes began to ache, he managed to blink them back, though he had to reach for his handkerchief again.

"Ah, where was I? Oh yes, when I got back, I had to do one of the toughest things I ever had to do . . . tell my niece that her parents weren't ever coming back. I had lost a brother, but her mother and father were both gone," he went on, pausing to snort loudly to try and clear his nose. "Radiane couldn't understand it, she was too young . . . But Aelyena knew somehow, it was one of those moments of intuition she had. With my wife gone already, she had been doing without a mother herself for some years, so she knew exactly how it felt. So, she became a sort of surrogate mother for her cousin, and they remained very close after that, bless their hearts."

"You never found out what your Aunt Ravenna was suffering from?" Lsanna asked, amazed. Radiane had joined her at the table with her own cup of tea in hand. "Uncle never really got over it . . . He was so sure that it was the Bloodsabers, but the priests at the Temple of Life said that it was something no spell could inflict, and it wasn't even infectious, yet she was dying from it just the same. She just wasted away . . . the coughing got worse each year, and no medicine, no healing spell seemed to work, though Uncle spent a fortune traveling, trying every cure he could think of. This was all years before I was born . . . Aelyena was just a little girl when her mother finally died; I guess we were similar in that regard," Radiane admitted, gazing down at her half-finished cup as Lsanna reached out across the wooden table to grasp one of the human girl's hands.

"The only problem was, Ravenna had been suffering from this . . . affliction for years, ever since she was little. It would go away, sometimes for almost a year, but she always relapsed. I felt so helpless . . . Nothing that I did seemed to help, and soon it was too late. I think that's why I can sympathize with you about how Aelyena died, even though my wife didn't die trying to save my life. Actually, I think she was trying to ease my pain in a way, because she kept saying, 'It's all right . . . don't worry about it, it's been a long time in coming, and I've gotten used to it', but I wouldn't let her just give up. But in the end, it wasn't up to me," Hrethel told Azrael, really crying now as he remembered his wife's illness.

The younger man had been listening carefully, and muttered under his breath, "Sounds like cystic fibrosis . . . " He thought he had been quiet enough, but the older man's eyes snapped open, and he leaned forwards to seize Azrael's shoulders. "What? You know what disease it was? Was there a cure? Is there a cure?" he demanded, his eyes wild. "If you mean to say there was a way I could have saved her . . ." he began, his voice low, but when he saw Azrael's sad eyes, he went silent. "No . . . not even in my knowledge is there a way to cure it. It is something you are born with," the Champion explained, wishing he hadn't mentioned the disease's name at all, as he had only succeeded in briefly convincing Hrethel that he had missed a valuable chance.

"Thanks for getting my mind on something else, Lsanna," Radiane sighed, filling her cup again. "So . . . it was your uncle who pushed you to become a paladin as well even though you'd have preferred to be a cleric?" Lsanna asked, taking a sip before she spoke. Though she had paused to undo her long oaken-hued braid, Radiane soon resumed her story. "Yes, he said that I was too strong not to learn how to use a sword, plus that it was some sort of family unity thing. Though I've gotten somewhat better at it, I still don't like killing monsters . . . though I can make an exception for undead and diseased things. Rodcet Nife despises them the most, so I think I can honor his wishes there at least," she explained to the wood elf, gesturing with her slender fingers. "Well, Father never had to push me into being a ranger. I had always been taking care of things . . . well, my younger sister especially, so becoming a ranger to protect nature and my fellow elves just seemed logical," Lsanna responded, thinking about her own origins for a change. Radiane laughed lightly and said with a slight touch of sadness, "See, I was the exact opposite. I had been taken care of so much in my life that I finally wanted to give something back. Uncle Hrethel took care of me, then Aelyena . . . I just want to be strong so that I can one day be just like them." She was surprised to hear a chuckle from Lsanna, and as their matching green eyes met, the elven woman replied, "I believe we're more alike than you think."

Hrethel's face was grim as Azrael finished describing the battle with the Chimera to him. "So, only by virtue of that amulet you have, can these kinds of things be destroyed?" he asked, tugging on his beard. Azrael nodded, but clarified, "There aren't any Chimeras besides this one, but there will be more Fallen, up to five more. I've already defeated one . . . so I guess I was overconfident in trying to beat this one." Noting that Azrael still wore the Amulet around his neck, the older paladin asked, "Couldn't you give that thing to somebody else so that they can try and kill it while you rest up?" Azrael looked shocked that Hrethel had even suggested it, and the blond man was taken aback by the expression on the younger man's face.

"By Karana's beard lad, I didn't ask you to give your right arm to a moss snake or anything," he muttered, and Azrael actually smiled, and waved a hand to calm him down. "I'm sorry if I gave that impression, but it's not that . . . I can't take the Amulet off, believe me, I've tried." A puzzled expression covered Hrethel's face as he replied, "You can't take it off? But it swung about easily enough when we were removing your armor, it's not like it's grafted to your neck . . ." Azrael shook his head and explained, "I think its part of the enchantment. I can't remove it because it can never be out of contact with my skin for even a second. For that matter, nobody else can try to remove it without suffering a deadly discharge of energy. A giant in Kael Drakkel found that out the hard way."

Hrethel thought for a few minutes, and then announced with a resigned look, "Well then, I guess we'll just have to wait until you're fully recovered again, though I doubt that . . . Chimera beast will show up again after that jolt you gave it." "Really . . . I don't want to be a burden . . ." Azrael began, but Hrethel cut him off. "If you don't want to just lie around, I guess you could train Radiane a bit, don't really need to walk far to give instruction, she needs to have more courage with her sword I think," he told Azrael in a strong yet cheery voice, clearly not expecting a 'no' for an answer. Smirking faintly, Azrael gave in and responded, "All right, if you insist." Both men laughed at that.

Hrethel was turning to go downstairs to tell Radiane to start getting dinner ready when he paused, and turned around. "If you're feeling up to it . . . perhaps I could see just a little spark of that power? You could do something small . . . like oh . . . knock the bowl off the table near you," he suggested. Azrael still felt extremely tired, but looking at the lightweight wooden bowl that had been carrying cool water for the cloth Radiane had been placing on his forehead up until earlier that day, he thought he could give it a try. Reaching out a hand, he concentrated, gathered his will into his hand, then . . . nothing. Frowning, he looked at his hand, then up at Hrethel who was waiting expectantly, and stretched out his hand again and tried harder, straining to make even just a small bolt hit the bowl. Not even a flicker of light could be seen. "What's wrong?" Hrethel asked after a while, disappointed by the lack of results. "The Third Power . . . I can't control it. My power is gone!" Azrael exclaimed, his face going pale.

"I think it's for the best personally," Radiane insisted as she cleaned up the plates from the dinner she had brought Azrael. While he ate, she had insisted upon asking him every detail about his life with Aelyena from the moment he saw her, up until and including her burial. Apparently Hrethel had told her the details of where the paladin had been from that point until now, but she was insatiable to hear about her cousin, since she had been away for so long, and Azrael hadn't the heart to refuse her, though she burst into tears frequently towards the end. Though it was still painful to recount all this to Radiane, he felt almost a compulsion to tell his story, as if to prevent those events from disappearing out of memory. Finally, she got up and left, drying her eyes with a dishtowel as she headed downstairs. It was getting easier to talk to her the more he did it, as he was picking up on the differences that separated her from her cousin, like the dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, the more wavy texture of her hair, green eyes with small spots of blue rather than a solid color…and her retiring personality all set her apart from Aelyena. As time wore on, he found himself even taking a liking to the shy girl, though he could do without her inquisitiveness. It seemed that there were far too many people with that trait recently.

Relaxing back onto the bed, gazing up at the whitewashed ceiling, tracing along the wooden rafters, Azrael heaved a huge sigh, hoping to finally get some rest, closing his eyes. "I thought she'd never leave, personally." "I agree, totally," Azrael began, but his breath caught when he realized that he hadn't thought that out loud. "Buh?!" he grunted as his eyes snapped open, and sat up in a hurry, forgetting the pain in his side as he gaped at what they beheld. "You'll tear your wounds open again if you do that you know," the hazy blue image of an armored, bearded man pointed out to him from where it was seated at the foot of the bed. The paladin realized he could see directly through the apparition as he shimmered and glowed. "Who are you?" Azrael asked hesitantly as the man was strangely familiar to him. As the man chuckled and replied, "Well, I'm not Obi-Wan Kenobi if that's what you're thinking," it struck him. This was the man in the dream visions, who had been speaking to him, but he hadn't been able to hear him! As if he could tell what Azrael was thinking, the older paladin interjected, "That's right, you can call me Raphael by the way, and the reason I can finally have this fine conversation with you is that both barriers between us have been removed."

"Barriers?" Azrael asked, confused. "Well, the one was a certain red-eyed problem you got rid of back in Velious," Raphael told him, arching a cerulean eyebrow. Azrael shuddered, as he realized that he still didn't know for sure whether or not the 'red-eyed problem' still 'lived', as he had been buried under tons of ice and earth. Looking back up at the apparition, a thought came to the paladin. "Are you a ghost or something?" Raphael looked surprised at the question, but laughed heartily, his chest and stomach shaking as if he were solid, and replied, "You could certainly say so, though in actuality I'm closer to an embodiment of a soul. As to whom specifically I am, I'm your predecessor, the 99th Champion." Reaching up to a hatch on his breastplate similar to the one Azrael had constructed, he removed a panel to reveal an amulet. Strikingly like Azrael's own, though in shades of blue, it featured a square made up of seven triangles, six in alternating light and dark forming the body of the square with a clear pyramid in the center. It was unmistakable; this man was a Champion as well. This struck Azrael like a hammer. "99? There were 99 before me?" he asked incredulously. "Counting back for about five thousand of our years, yes. And by our years, that's precisely what I mean, because I'm from the same place you are: Terra," Raphael explained.

Terra. The name resounded in Azrael's head as bits and pieces of memory flitted around in his head, images of a vast world, oceans and deserts, mountains and plains, people, places, things. Groaning as a spike of pain hit him, he clasped a hand to his head. Looking on sympathetically, Raphael remarked, "Your memories will come back in time…You've have a rough experience thus far, and without my guidance, but you've done remarkably well despite that. And hey, what can I say? You've been dead, or close to it anyways." Something about that remark made Azrael reflect back to what Radiane had said about him being resurrected. "Did I die fighting the Chimera?" he asked, his heart pounding, wondering how he could have been saved from that. Raphael shook his head with an amused look on his face, tugging slightly as his short beard. "No, though that resurrection was precisely what you needed. Like you thought, you had just passed out from overuse of the Power, not from blood loss. In fact, I doubt you've noticed how little blood you've lost since the 'incident' on Veeshan's Peak, and when you did, just how…thick it was," the former Champion responded. A sick feeling welled in Azrael's stomach as he remembered something from a book long ago. "After you're dead…your blood becomes a colloid," he whispered under his breath.

Seeing the horrified look on the younger man's face, Raphael waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, and exclaimed, "Didn't I say you weren't exactly dead? You were trapped in a sort of twilight state between life and death, with your spirit animating your body and generating heat, and some liquidity to your blood. Otherwise, you'd have been dead for sure." At that, Azrael suddenly grew angry, and muttered in a low voice, "It wasn't like that; Aelyena saved me at the cost of her own life!" With a sad look in his eyes, Raphael replied, "That she did, son, but not in the way she had hoped." His fury dissipating as quickly as it had come, Azrael looked at his predecessor with a lost look. Sighing spectrally, Raphael went on, "You both died when Phara Dar pierced you with his talons and horn. But while your bodies perished, your spirits still hung on briefly in the manner of Norrathians. In that dusk period, Aelyena made an extraordinary sacrifice. She pushed your spirit back into your body, tied it to your amulet, even as 'you-know-who' was attempting to take over it. His attempt at preserving his soul in turn saved yours. With her last bit of effort, she clung to her holy sword, leaving what remained of her spiritual energy in it, along with a desire to serve you, allowing you to control her soul-bound sword."

Looking over at the cerulean-flamed blade where it rested on a desk, Azrael murmured in shock, "She's alive?" "In a sense; she's still too weak to return to being a proper spirit…and don't start thinking of trying to revive her just yet, it would take far too much energy, even at full power, to recreate a body for her and then put her spirit in it," Raphael quickly spit out, a bit gruffly upon noticing the hopeful yet determined glint that came into Azrael's eyes. Seeing the hurt in his successor's face, he quickly amended, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Her memories are preserved in the sword, so with practice, you can get back some sense of her. But that's later. We still need to catch up on everything that you've missed." Thinking up something right off the bat, Azrael asked, "How long ago were you the Champion? You said you were the 99th…" Looking pleased to get back to a less painful subject, Raphael smiled and answered, "Well, though I started being a Champion back in 1975, when I was just a newly enlisted soldier in the army, my 'term of service' ended just ten years ago." Adding it up in his head, Azrael got a puzzled look on his face and remarked, "Wait…if you were a 'grunt', that was my father's generation…how come you're a ghost…spirit, soul, whatever?" Realizing what it was his protégé had asked, Raphael smacked his forehead. "What's wrong?" the younger man asked. "Not certain you're ready to hear this kid, but there can only be one Champion at a time. In order to guide you as well as make room for you, I needed to be inside the amulet rather than wearing it, so it ate me," Raphael explained. "It ATE you?!" Azrael gasped, an image of the amulet opening up like a pair of steel jaws and chomping down on him, changing to another image of the center becoming a black hole and sucking him in.

"Not like that! No, I mean it took my soul out of my body and inserted it into the 'holding tank' of souls in its center," Raphael grumbled. Something then occurred to Azrael then. "Will that happen to…me, as well?" he demanded. Raphael nodded, and then gave another sigh, going on to explain, "Every twenty-five years, son. We all knew the terms when we were chosen, same as you did, even though you don't remember it just yet." "Chosen by whom?" Azrael asked. "By the Amulet itself. Though you don't recall, there are ten amulets in total, seven able to be chosen by us. When the time has come for the next Champion to be chosen, the amulet he is to bear shows and image to the Rathe Council of the next Terran to be chosen, then he is drawn to Norrath," Raphael responded. "But how…?" Azrael began, but then he heard Lsanna say, "I was told by Radiane that you were feeling better, so I came up to say…WHA?!" Both Champions looked towards the stairs to see the wood elf staring in shock at the two of them. Raphael laughed softly and muttered, "I see we have more explaining to do.

To be continued…


End file.
